#last minute (late) attempt to do *something* to participate lol

[spideybrainrot]

#PeterParkerMultishipWeek Day 1 → Starker Penthouse Life

[dienamights]

Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

​✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!):  noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex. 

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo​ 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

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The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job. 

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?” 

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?” 

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home. 

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated  men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs? 

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it. 

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise. 

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet. 

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute. 

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him. 

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.” 

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating. 

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.” 

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain. 

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game. 

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself? 

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him. 

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there. 

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood. 

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness. 

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now. 

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki​

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento​ (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hey~~ could you write Annie x reader? What I had in mind was towards the end of s1 when Annie was trying to climb up the wall, could she try and take reader with her because they always talked about being together? Kinda like when Ymir took Historia in s2, and I really love your writings 💕 thanks~

TAsdfhjksfadh you didn’t specify whether Annie made it over the wall with the reader or not so uh I just kinda picked one lol hope you don’t mind

Also, sorry this is a little late, I've been feeling just a little sick for the past couple of days.

Prove It

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers

Category: Mostly angst, little fluff

Summary: When Annie was outed as the Female Titan, she didn’t have a lot of options on where to go. And, as the fight between her and Eren progresses, it becomes clear her best option is to flee. Yet, there’s just one thing she can’t leave without. And it seems the feeling’s mutual.

Words: 3.1K

That wicked laughter.

It rung through the empty streets of Stohess, abandoned specifically for this military operation.

The goal? To lure out the suspected Female Titan, Annie Leonhart. Your girlfriend.

At first, you were violently against participating in the operation. You weren’t going to incriminate her, that would be incredibly faithless. Really, you wanted nothing more than for her to be vindicated, and to prove the the world the the “heartless” Annie Leonhart is a loyal soldier, not the traitorous snake they started to make of her.

It got in your head, most certainly. Within hours of the first discussion, ‘Annie Leonhart’ and ‘Female Titan’ had become synonymous with each other, and you hated every bit of it. You always defended her fiercely, because you could only hear so much distasteful talk towards her before you started to broil over with rage.

So, you agreed. You were going to lure Annie down in to the tunnel and prove once and for all that she wasn’t a monster. You could clear her of suspicion, and the two of you would go back to your ordinary lives with each other.

And oh, if only that was what happened.

But you watched in horror as Annie refused to go down the tunnel. She laughed, laughed, when you pleaded with her to follow you, that all she needed to do was come along with you to be unshackled from the scrutiny and doubt.

But her feet remained planted in her rigid stance of defense.

“Y/n...” She slurred out, laughter finally subsiding. “I’m glad I could be a good person to you.”

The slope of fear seemed to lose it’s steadiness, and the drop-off into the pit of empty horror occurred when she held up her hand to her mouth, preparing herself for the bloodshed to follow.

“You’ve won your bet. But this is where my bet begins...!”

The signal flare fired, and the countless soldiers waiting in ambush jumped from all angles. You watched, wide-eyed and frozen, as they restrained her and gagged her, like muzzling a dog. But, it was no use. Her ring, the silver ring she never let you touch, sprung up a spike out of it’s side, and a quick slide of her thumb across the tip opened up a bloody gash in her finger.

And then came the lightning.

Mikasa had thrown her arms around you and Armin, dragging you down into the tunnel to get out of harm’s way of the transformation.

You knew she had finished her transformation when the thundering stopped, and chunks of debris rolled to a stop at your feet, stirred dust slowly settling itself back onto the stone ground. For a moment, everything stilled, and only the ragged breaths of Armin and the sheathing of Mikasa’s blades were audible.

And then something moved.

You weren’t sure what it was, until around the corner, the light was consumed by a large shadow, growing closer and closer and absorbing more of the sunlight until it rounded the corner.

A fingertip. Then the finger. Then the hand. An arm—and it was traveling down the hallway, fingers frozen in a pose as if it were trying to grab onto something, something it couldn’t see.

“Shit!” You let out a terrified yelp and took off running, Mikasa hot on your tail and Armin stumbling closely behind.

It sought after the three of you, until a distant thump could be heard. You whipped your head around and stopped running, noticing the hand—ever present, it’s finger stretched desperately in an attempt at grabbing something, but it was no use. You caught a glance of it’s upper arm, flush against the wall of the curve.

She couldn’t reach any farther.

You let out of a sigh of relief, falling to your knees and gazing at it. It’s shaking fingers stopped, finally, and went limp into it’s palm in defeat, before slowly pulling itself out. You had no clue whether it was trying to grab you, or Armin, or Mikasa, or if it was planning on killing you or not. Bottom line, it was unsuccessful.

But then more thunder.

It seems Eren finally got his cue, because the signature yellow hues of transformation shone even into the dark abyss of the wrecked tunnel.

The three of you took a deep breath and shared a collective glance. Before long, the unsaid instructions were followed, and the three of you scurried out of the tunnel to witness the action.

And action it was—the first sight you were greeted with upon exiting was that of Annie delivering a decisive punch to Eren’s jaw, sending him flying backwards into the streets of Stohess.

Eren returned to his feet as fast as he could, and let out a menacing roar as he charged at Annie, arms low like a football player preparing to pounce on something.

He charged, but her feet remained planted, arms bracing for impact.

You watched as the two of them brawled furiously. You didn’t even notice that Mikasa and Armin had left your side—you hadn’t moved. You couldn’t find it in your heart to fight Annie, but neither were you going to fight Eren. No, all you could do was watch, helpless.

The battle continued fiercely, absolutely wrecking the city in the process. Building were destroyed and crumpled, streets of stone completely upended as one or the other got helplessly tossed around.

It came to a head as the fight eventually progressed to a wide, open space of stone, and the two of them were fighting hand to hand, both of them looking worse for wear. You shot your ODM gear into the roof of a nearby building, watching the fight with a slacked jaw. You had no clue how Eren was even standing a chance to Annie, since you yourself had seen how skilled she was in martial arts.

Soon, though, a decisive kick to Annie shin sent debris and rocks flying everywhere. Annie lost her footing, tumbling to the ground with a thump.

And you had been so fixated on Annie in that moment that you failed to notice the debris, and it was headed right towards your face.

Something—rigid and powerful—collided with your head, and you fell to the ground instantly.

Your vision was already fading, and you watched as tiny streams of crimson flowed over the shingles and down the roof—no doubt stemming from the newly opened gash on your scalp.

The distant clinking of the rock as it tumbled down the slope of the roof was the last thing you heard, and the world around you faded to black.

---

Through the darkness, a memory flashed through your mind.

---

It was dark out, of course it was. Shadis would never let you have leisure time at all when the sun was up.

You leaned against an lone oak tree, fingers brushing through the soft grass idly. The air was cold and crisp, and a soft breeze flowed through the air, just barely enough to rustle your soft hair.

Annie sat silently next to you, shoulder brushing up against yours. Slowly, she slinked her hand over yours, hesitantly grasping at your hand. You entwined your fingers with hers, and she looked away shyly.

She often had bouts of insomnia, lying awake at night for hours, unable to get her body to relax. And, the first night she tugged at your nightshirt, waking you up to go outside with her, she fell asleep in your arms due to exhaustion almost immediately.

So, it had become an unspoken ritual from that day on. She couldn’t sleep, she’d wake you up, the two of you would go outside, and talk or busy yourselves until sleep inevitably caught up to her.

But today was different. For whatever reason, something had been keeping her up for a lot longer than usual. You knew something was weighing down on her heavily, but you weren’t going to pry it out of her.

Deciding to break the tense silence, you squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention before you spoke.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” You observed. You weren’t talking about the weather per-say, but the thousands of white speckled stars that dotted the sky, and the bright, full moon that illuminated the grass and dirt beneath you.

“It’s cold.” She said bluntly.

You chuckled softly, her bleak attitude was so characteristic of her.

“I guess that’s true.”

More silence.

And then she sighed, bringing your hand into her lap to cusp it in both of her palms, clinging onto it as if it were grounding her.

“What do you plan on doing later in life, Y/n?” She huffed, leaning her head backwards against the back of the tree and gazing up at the sky. “You don’t possibly plan on staying in the military your whole life, do you?”

“No, of course not.” You sighed.

“Then do you have plans afterwards?”

You paused for a minute. She raised a good point, you didn’t really think of anything after the military. Deep down, perhaps you understood that by joining the Cadet Corps you didn’t have much ahead of you. You can only survive so many brushes with death before it’s your turn to go.

“I guess not...” You hesitated, deep in thought. You swallowed a lump in your throat before changing the subject. “Why, do you?”

Even through the darkness, you could feel the shrug of her shoulders against you.

“Not really.” She muttered. “Just... stay with the MPs, make a living wage, retire somewhere in the interior, and... relax. I just wanna... find somewhere to relax.”

She paused for a second. Clearly there’s something tugging at her mind, something she wants to say. So, you sit back and wait for her to find the confidence.

“Do you promise me that... sometime, after a while in the Scouts, that you’ll come back to be with me?”

The future between the two of you was always painted with uncertainty—whether the two of you could ever truly stay together. It would be difficult, between soldiers, to be able to settle down and stay together no matter what, especially from different regiments. But you could always try.

She exhaled shakily, struggling to get the words out of her throat.

“I just can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. ‘Cause... if anything ever happened to you in the Scouts...” Her voice trailed off near the end, and you assumed she was trying to plan out her next words carefully, until you heard a small sniffle pass her lips.

Surprised, you turned to face her. She was trying to fight off the tears at the corners of her eyes, lip trembling as she struggled not to cry. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how tightly she gripped your hand.

“Annie- Annie it’s alright.” You stumbled, trying to comfort her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was upsetting her—she was scared of living a life without you.

You hooked an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to you and putting your other hand on the back of her head and guiding her to your shoulder.

“I promise you, no matter what, I’ll live. And one day, we can spend all our time together. I’ll go wherever you go, I swear.” You ran your hand through her hair, undoing the bun she kept it in and evening it out over her shoulders.

“You promise?” Her voice sounded shaky and weak, a vulnerability to it that she rarely showed. “No matter what happens to me, you’ll trust me and stay with me?”

“I promise. Of course I do.”

---

Warmth.

It was the first thing you noticed upon waking up. The second was darkness. You sat up, noticing how wet the surface beneath you was. And how how fleshy.

Your face paled in realization. You were in a titan's mouth.

You raised your arm up, cringing at the trail of saliva that connected you to her tongue.

Immediately, you searched for a way to get out. You didn't plan on leaving her behind, but you'd rather not be stuck in a place as slimy and dark as this either. However, your efforts were pointless, since her jaw was clamped shut, her teeth caging you in and preventing you from escaping. Your heart dropped a little, wondering if she didn't trust you not to run away.

Suddenly, you felt a large thump, the unexpected movement causing you to grab desperately at anything that would keep you grounded in one spot.

But then, another thump. And another, and another. It felt like running, almost, but far too slow. You pondered it for a moment, before you realized what was going on.

She was trying to climb the wall.

But then, the thumping stopped. She wasn't falling, thank god, but all movement has seized.

Hesitantly, her jaw started to open, giving ample space for you to squeeze through. A sudden thought came to you—she needed your help.

With no hesitation, you drew your blades and burst through the skin of her cheek, not even waiting for her to part for lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you immediately search for the source of the problem. And you found it in the brute of a soldier, Mikasa Ackerman.

The girl was perched on Annie's nose, staring down at her. A quick glance to your side and you realized, with horror written all over your face, that Mikasa had cut off almost all of Annie's fingers—one more and Annie would easily lose her grip.

You understood, as soon as Mikasa drew her blades towards Annie's hand, you only had one option.

You shot your ODM gear towards her, not even caring when the hook dug into Mikasa's shoulder, causing her to yelp in pain as she turned to you.

She wasn't even given a moment to process as you came hurtling towards her, colliding with her shoulder and sending both of you flying through the air and towards the ground—fast.

Despite the small voice telling you that it would be easier to just ditch Mikasa, to release your ODM gear and let her fall, you shot the other hook into the wall, and your momentum halted to a stop.

She peeled her arms away from their protective guard around her head, processing that the two of you had stopped before looking up to you in surprise. You looked back down at her, an expression of sorrow in your eyes. It hurt you to betray her, and all of your comrades, like this, but you knew as soon as Annie placed her trust in you by opening her mouth that you only had one choice.

"Y/n what are y—!"

"I'm sorry Mikasa!" You yelled, trying to put aside your emotions for the time being. "I can't... I can't leave her, I promised I wouldn't!"

You took a deep breath, positioning on your finger on the trigger, preparing to release Mikasa from your ODM gear's bloody grip in her shoulder. "I'm sorry..." You muttered, before pulling the trigger, watching Mikasa tumbled towards the ground, her betrayed expression still glued helplessly on her face.

You decided that it would only hurt you to look at Mikasa—engraining that image into your head would certainly plague you later on.

You finally turned to look back at Annie, and your heart picked up a couple paces at the sight.

Her head was turned to you, watching—waiting—for you, her hand outstretched in your direction. You smiled, firing your ODM and flying into the palm of her hand, quickly climbing up onto her shoulder to allow her to finish her ascent up the wall.

You turned back one last time, looking over at the destroyed city, and the furious and betrayed faces of your comrades. You sighed, turning back around. That's in the past now, you thought. It doesn't matter. I... made a promise to Annie, I can't betray her. I can't...

---

The line of trees in the distance grew closer and closer as Annie jogged forwards, having made it over the wall and all the way to the forest inside Wall Maria.

She slowed down to a walking pace as she neared the trees, kneeling on the ground before releasing herself from the nape of her titan. Steam flowed from her body as she immediately collapsed forwards, and you instantly lurched forwards to catch her exhausted body in your arms.

"Grab on." You instructed, waiting for her to securely wrap herself around you before you flew through the air and onto a tree branch, making sure you were safely out of the reach of any mindless titans before you let go of her.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wooden trunk of the tree to recollect her strength. After all, even as a titan, the fight had done numbers to her body.

You sat there in comfortable silence for a little bit, waiting for her to catch her breath while you idly readjusted the straps to your ODM gear.

Finally, she reached over to take your hand, grabbing it in both of hers just like she had during your conversation with her years ago.

"I'm so glad..." She sighed, voice weak and wavering. "I was so scared when I opened my mouth that you would just... run off without me."

Slowly, she shifted, wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning her entire body weight on you. You could feel some of the tension leaving her body as she sighed against you, burying her nose in the crook of your neck.

"I was terrified that if you found out my real identity, you would just leave me. I don't know how I would've handled it. I was just..." She took a shaky inhale as she continued, and you felt a few wet tears against your neck. "Scared. So... So scared..."

You set a comforting hand on her back, hugging her tighter in an attempt to sooth her.

"Annie..." You cooed in her ear. "I promised you, remember? I would never leave your side. I'm gonna stay with you for the rest of my life."

Her breathing started to calm against you, your words managing to ease her worries.

"Yeah," She sighed, pulling away from you. "I shouldn't have doubted you, sweetie."

You smiled and placed your hands on her shoulders, bringing her in for a quick kiss before wiping her tears with the back of your hand.

"It's fine. Just remember," You leaned in and hugged her, exuding a warm feeling that made Annie's heart swell with love. "I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

"God, I love you so much, you dork." She muttered, heat rising to her cheeks with a content smile.

You chuckled, "I love you, too."

MAN THIS IS ASS

This is what happens when you force yourself to write with a headache whoops haha

[soliverse]

don’t call me - k.dy

(sequel to call me a fool. you can read this by itself, but some references would make more sense if you read the first part.)

reader x bestfriend!doyoung

genre: so much angst, slight fluff

warnings: none

word count: 3.85k

synopsis: Doyoung missed an important milestone in your life. Now, it’s your turn to miss his calls.

prompt:

Ghost Of You by 5 Seconds of Summer, part of the Heartbreak Hotel collab by @nct-writers

dedication to:

@hunjins for leaving witty comments during beta reading

@johnyusangel for being my guardian angel during beta and when I was dying over a migraine + Qian Kun

@hxneyy-latte for nursing me back to health lol

taglist: @kunrengui (sorry this took a while 😔), @leolo404 @byeolhyesisi @thesongofdragons

networks: @nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

Every day, your routine starts with staring at your phone for a few hours before getting out of bed. You'd check in all of your messaging apps to see if any of them came from Doyoung. Sadly, there's none of it this morning.

You would drag your mopey ass out of bed and start the day with dread, questioning why he hasn’t replied to your last text. Then, as you brush your teeth, you would check once again to see if you missed anything while you are preoccupied with oral hygiene.

The inbox notifications would still say zero. And then you'd wait… and wait… and wait some more hours, even days before he replies back.

Every time Doyoung refuses to reply to your messages soon, you get this sudden urge to bang your head into a wall, cursing yourself for texting him in the first place. You will then start to question your life choices, why you even texted him in the first place when you knew this is bound to happen. And that you probably sounded too clingy, too cheesy for his liking. Your thoughts filled as to why he refused to reply as soon as he could.

You sighed and placed your phone back into your pocket and proceeded to go on with your day. The academy is about to open and you have practice for your upcoming recital the following day.

You kept your phone around your vicinity even as you practiced. It's a good thing that your vocal mentor isn't here to point out your mistakes, but you're trying to hit every note as clean as you can. A feat that is impossible to do when you're completely distracted by something.

Doyoung: Hey.

That one word is enough to wash all of the worries that you had earlier. You once again attempted to bang your head into the wall, now cursing yourself for changing your emotions so quickly.

You kept your phone back at your table, practicing for a few more minutes before answering the text. This time, you sang with a smile on your lips, the burden of your worries suddenly lifted with a single word.

But that's just how it always is with you and your best friend.

Now, if you can only tell him how you feel.

///

You bowed at everyone for doing a great job at practice. You happily fished out your phone from your pocket to reply to Doyoung's earlier text.

You: Are you free this Saturday?

You placed your phone down for a moment to fix your stuff, but a ding! interrupted you midway and you just couldn’t help but look at his reply.

Doyoung: Not at all. Need help with something?

Your smile grew wider and you texted the details of your recital for Saturday. You've worked on the piece so hard that you wanted to share your success with him, just like he would share his with you.

The rest of the day went smoothly. It was full of wishful thinking and daydreams. And if it goes well, it might be the day that you tell him about how you really feel about him.

///

It was the day of the recital and your hands were shaking out of nervousness. Your grip on the mic was getting tighter, if not sweatier, as you heard the crowds forming outside to see you and your classmates perform.

The soundcheck commenced and they started calling all the participants by their name as they came on stage. You heard nothing besides your own heartbeat and your loud thoughts whenever you overthink. But you reassured yourself that you will do a good job.

You had to. Someone was watching and you wanted to make him proud.

Fiddling on your seat, you waited for a few numbers before it was your turn. You nervously walked out the stage, and you were blinded by the lights coming from the back of the theater. It was probably for the good. 

You couldn’t see anyone’s faces.

You couldn’t see his face. 

Because if you could, you would’ve choked on your words and hit the notes wrong once again. Thankfully, the performance went better than you expected. 

As soon as everyone came together for the curtain call, your eyes wandered to see Doyoung among the crowds. You scanned left and right, but there were no signs of him everywhere in the theater.

You consoled yourself with the fact that he probably went to the bathroom, or he was already backstage waiting for you. He couldn’t possibly miss this day, right?

The first thing that you did after coming down the stage was to have a closer look at the seats, just to make sure that he really was there in the crowd. Everyone else had their families with them, their friends, their lovers. 

But there were no signs of Doyoung in the crowd.

You tried hard to smile as everyone who passed by you congratulated you for doing a great job. But once again, you were distracted. Your mind was occupied with thoughts that you never expected to have that day.

Did he really forget about you?

Giving up completely, you made your way back backstage and hid your impending tears to everyone. On your way, you saw Johnny, waving a small bouquet of flowers to get your attention. This sparked a tiny bit of hope in you. If Johnny was around, then Doyoung must have been here somewhere, too.

You ran towards Johnny and gave him the tightest bear hug. You were worried that no one really watched you perform today. Your family lives abroad and they couldn’t make it to watch you, but you promised them that you will send them a video of you singing. You were really counting on Doyoung not only to watch you perform, but to film your performance as well. 

He must have been here somewhere.

“Thank God you came. I thought nobody saw me perform earlier,” you were once again on the verge of crying, but you didn’t have the heart to ask Johnny if Doyoung was indeed with him.

“Doyoung couldn’t make it today. He had to go out with the whole crew of his drama to celebrate their last day together. I came as soon as I heard about your performance.”

You fell quiet, breathing deep to hide your tears and your disappointment. But Johnny knew how you felt, so he pulled you tighter against him, completely encasing you completely on his embrace. “Don’t feel sad. You did so well today.”

///

Ever since then, you stopped taking calls from Doyoung. He would persistently call and text you every night to say sorry. Any other day, you would’ve been glad to see that finally, he’s the one that’s trying so hard to reach you. Sadly, you’re in no mood to talk to him. 

You thought it would’ve been cruel if you blocked his number from your phone, so you instead tried to text him excuses why you couldn’t talk.

You were tired. You went out with a friend. You just wanted to take some rest.

After hitting send, you tossed your phone in your bed, still feeling upset about him missing such an important day to you. You felt set aside like you’re the last person on his priority list.

That day made you realize that you’re spending way too much energy on someone that doesn’t return the favor. It was an unhealthy behavior that you need to get out of your system as soon as possible, even if that means cutting Doyoung from your life temporarily.

///

Doyoung was surprised to see you at the front door of the 127 dorm one day. You tried smiling at him as he opened the door to let you in, pretending that you were not upset with him in the previous days.

“Surprised you’re not busy today,” you remarked as you sat down, clearly aiming at Doyoung who was now feeling lost at your coldness towards him.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Not at all,” you tried your best to avoid his gaze because one look at your face would definitely give everything away. You didn’t want to lie to him, but it was better than saying that you were mad because you had feelings for him.

“Anyways, where’s Johnny? He invited me to watch a movie this afternoon.”

“Didn’t you tell me that you had practice today? That’s why you couldn’t meet me?”

You sneered internally.

“Yeah. Sometimes people say one thing and then they actually mean another thing. You of all people should know.”

You saw Johnny coming out of his room, fully dressed and ready for your movie night together. You waved one last goodbye at Doyoung, who just realized that you were roasting him the whole time.

///

The passive-aggressiveness went on for a few more occasions. You refused his attempts to talk to you, knowing full well that your cold facade would wear off instantly once you let him. You wanted to talk to him so bad, but your pride was preventing you from making any rash decisions. You couldn’t just go back to living your life as Doyoung’s doormat. But, as per Johnny’s advice, you got to explain to him why you were feeling that way. He at least deserved that much.

That explanation came sooner than you had expected.

You were spending a lot of time with Johnny lately, but only because he treats you like a little sister. He must’ve missed his own sister back at home, so he was making sure to take care of you as much as he could. 

But Doyoung didn’t have to know that.

You had noticed the tension between the two of them whenever you would visit their dormitory. Johnny was just a bit irked at Doyoung because you were hurting, but he understood it from his perspective. He never knew how you felt in the first place, he wouldn’t have known how much he hurt you in the process.

What goes on in Doyoung’s brain though, you have no idea. He usually just stays away from the both of you whenever you’ve come to visit them, maybe throw in a couple of pleasantries before asking you to hang out with him once again. You kept on telling him that you will once you’re not busy with the academy, and then proceeds to forget about it on that same day.

One day, he’s finally had enough and decided to block the door when you were about to leave the dorm room.

"There's nothing to talk about Doyoung."

You tried to step out once again, but he didn't even budge from his place.

"Can you just tell me what I did? I already said sorry about not attending your recital. What else do you want me to do?"

You lowered your head and tried to leave again, determined not to answer his questions. But he's just as stubborn as you are, this time pushing you slightly, just enough to make you step back.

Your fists formed into a ball and your lips pursed in annoyance. Why does he care about you so much now that you're staying away from him?

"Let me leave, Doyoung. Johnny is waiting for me," you said as calmly as you could.

"Is that it? You're replacing me with Johnny? Just because of that one mistake? What kind of friendship is that?" Doyoung's voice went up a few notches, now looking as visibly upset as you are.

"I can't be your friend anymore, Doyoung," silence filled the room as soon as you said that statement. You both stare at each other awkwardly, both of you are still in a state of shock.

"I don't think this is the perfect time to tell you this, but you have to know eventually," grasping the straps of your handbag, you braced yourself for what you were about to say.

"I have feelings for you Doyoung. That's why I was so hurt that you didn't attend the recital," you paused for a bit, biting your lower lip to hold yourself back from tearing up.

"It made me realize that my life, everything about me, revolves around you. I would literally drop everything when you say you need me. And yet, I'm so far away from your priority list that you can't even sit down for a few minutes to watch me perform," you felt a bit of moisture from your cheeks. Tears were already falling from your face without you even realizing it. 

You wiped your tears away with your sleeves and you held yourself back from sobbing to proceed to talk.

"But it's not your fault. I was the one at fault for lending you my time, and I was the one at fault for setting high expectations for someone who just treats me as a friend," you smiled weakly as you walked towards him one last time.

"So for now, I can't be your friend anymore. Not until I sort my feelings out and make things more awkward for us. Give me time for myself, Doyoung. I'll try to be a better friend soon."

You smiled as you lowered your head once again, your shoulders brushing over when you left the room. You didn't try to look back and walked as fast as possible, holding yourself together just before you reached the exit.

You ran out of their apartment building and as soon as you found a place where you can hide, you finally let yourself go. You sat there balling your eyes out and looked around for signs of your best friend. When you realized that he didn't even make an effort to comfort or follow you, your sobs got even louder as you sat down on the pavement to hug your knees.

"Go on... Let it out."

Someone sat down with you and started patting your back to comfort you. You raised your head and cleared the hair strands that stuck to your face to see who it is. It was Johnny.

"I saw everything that happened. I'm happy that you finally told him."

He rubbed your shoulders to calm you down once again, offering you his handkerchief so you could wipe your tears out. Once you finally managed to stop crying, he stood up from his seat and placed his hands on the pockets of his hoodie.

"If you need to cry all day, I'll be here."

///

Doyoung proved that your presence left a big mark that he never realized before. He thought he was just confused at first, or that he was just getting used to not being able to contact you whenever he could.

Just that evening, he was having a hard time memorizing the new choreography for their comeback. He kept on messing up one of the killing parts and everyone was frustrated that they couldn't move on to the other parts of the choreography. He felt sorry for everyone, so he left practice early to work on it himself without burdening the other members. His first instinct was the grab his phone and listen to your soothing voice, telling him to cheer up and that he will do better tomorrow.

But as soon as he was about to hit the dial button, it pained him to press the back button instead, stuffing the phone into his sweatpants and he wiped the sweat off of him.

He felt very heaviness, even more, when he was changing, basically ripping the door of his locker as he took its contents to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling of sweat. He was both mad and upset at the same time, almost ripping a part of his shirt when he was about to put it on.

He hasn't felt like this in a very long time and he needed a way to get things off of his chest. But without you to do it, it was practically impossible.

He grabbed his matching hat and jacket, stuffing his dirty clothes on his backpack and he made his way out of the building.

He made sure that no one saw him in that state, especially Haechan, who gave him so much shit when everybody found out about your confession.

"Everyone knew, you dumbass."

He just wished somebody would've told him sooner, but he knew it wasn't their place to tell him about it. He felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.

His heavy footsteps dragged him to the ramen shop that you used to go to together. He stopped coming here when he lost contact with you, and instead of making him feel better, it made him even more upset upon the reminder of how he fucked up. But he needed a way to make himself feel better. Ramen worked back then. Maybe it would work right now.

He made the choice to not sit down at your usual spot, the one closest to the kitchen so you would get your meals as soon as you could. He instead opted for one of the corners. It felt awkward, but he was there to eat, not enjoy the ambiance. He ordered a bowl to himself, something that he wasn't used to seeing on the table. The bowl of ramen looked so empty on the table by itself, and so he ordered a lot of side dishes with a few bottles of soju to comfort himself.

To his surprise, he was served by the same auntie that used to tease you and him before when the two of you used to go to this place. He hoped that she wouldn't recognize and ask for your whereabouts, but he was very unlucky that day.

"Oh. It's been a while since I saw you! How are you?"

Doyoung just bowed to the auntie and told him that he was fine and that he missed eating there for the longest time.

"I'm glad that I finally get to see you! You missed your friend though, she just left earlier."

He was put to a halt. Something about you being mentioned sparked something in him. Although, he wasn't able to pinpoint what that feeling was at that time.

"I think she was showing the place to another friend of yours. The big guy ate a lot, so we're worried for a bit that we’re about to close early for today."

Doyoung felt his heart sink, but he still bowed and thanked the auntie for the meal. 

He stared at the contents of his table for a while, but you would always remind him that the soup tasted better when it's still hot. For some reason though, the bowl of ramen wasn't as tasty as it used to be. He used to finish bowls of that same ramen before, but he couldn't even manage to finish one. He knew better than to waste food though, so he forced himself to eat the rest of it and jumped out of there as soon as he could.

The ramen certainly didn't make him feel better.

///

It's been weeks and the first thing that Doyoung did after waking up was to open his phone for messages. There were a few of them, most of it coming from the other members, but he wasn't interested in reading in any of them.

Getting out of bed seemed harder than usual. He felt a few pounds heavier, which meant he either gained weight or he just lost the will to get up from his bed.

He tried not to stare at his phone as he brushed his teeth, so he kept them hidden in his pocket and used all of his wills to not check on it every hour.

He noticed that there was a bit of commotion coming from outside. He paid no attention and went back to his usual morning routine, getting ready for a separate schedule that he had that morning. He went to his room to get dressed and pack the things that he may need that day. Once everything was done, he went to the kitchen to tell everyone that he was going, but he was met with something else instead.

The rest of the boys were gathered up around the table, enjoying breakfast that he assumed that you made. You just stood there happily as you served everyone pieces of the omelet that you made. You turned around in his direction and he was met with that smile that he missed so much.

"Doie, would you like some?"

The nickname made him flinch. It was something that you never used on him before, but it was enough to make him look away and step out of the room immediately.

"I'm good. I just came to say goodbye to everyone."

"Oh good!" you said as you gathered your things and stuffed them neatly in your tote bag. "I just came here to drop some food because this guy said that he wasn’t feeling well. Let's go together," you said as you tiptoed your way out of the tight kitchen, messing Johnny's hair before you finally stepped out of the room.

"Let's go?" you asked giddily as you grabbed Doyoung's arm and waved to everybody goodbye. He finally realized what you must've felt when it was the other way around.

The walk towards the bus stop was a quiet one. None of you dared to talk. But he noticed that the spring of your step is back, if not better than before. Meanwhile, he was just walking there awkwardly, not knowing what to say to you because of how he left things the last time that you talked. He wanted to talk to you for the longest time, but he respected your wishes to be alone. Now he was regretting making that decision.

The both of you stood there at the nearest bus stop, the atmosphere is even quieter since it was just the two of you standing there.

"I missed you Doie," you spoke, breaking the silence between you too.

"I was hoping that we can talk right after this. You know, just to clear the air."

He remained quiet in his place, not really knowing how to respond to her.

"Meet me at the ramen place later?"

"Sure," Doyoung almost hit himself for answering so soon. To him, he sounded very eager to eat with you once again.

The bus finally arrived and you stepped inside, making your way into the seat. His stare lingered at you for a while, to see if you would look around like how you always did when he sent you home. You took those same steps, hesitating at the eighth one to see if he still stuck around to look at you.

You hesitantly sat back down in your seat, unsure as to whether he finally looked back at you when you were about to leave.

You never saw him though, because he asked you to sit down and within a split second, he was gone from your view.

Guess you're just gonna have to find out tonight.

xxx

[archaneanscribe]

Finally Taking the Trip to Jupiter

Vague spoilers for MGS4. Also xtremely fucking sad fair warning lol

“Snake... Dave?” Hal immediately corrected himself upon entering the room. The veteran’s (finally they could use that term, with there truly being no fights left to fight) request to drop the codenames they had maintained for nearly a decade had been a little sudden, but entirely understandable, “We think we’ve found a place to stay, for the moment. A nice house, close enough to a town that Sunny can go to school in, but far enough ouy most folks will leave us alone.”

David simply nodded- taking a deep breath that would normally be an intake of smoke into his lungs, but he was sincere in his declaration of quitting. Even if it wasn’t for very long, he could do that much for Sunny and Hal, after all this time. The tech wiz stood awkwardly in the doorframe, posture so closed in on himself David would see the gangly nerd he once was before he had started spending more time eating and moving around than seated in front of a computer.

He still did plenty of that, but years on the run had shifted the ratio considerably until just recently.

“Out with it, Hal,” he croaked out in a voice that was becoming increasingly unfamiliar to both of them. This seemed to shock his companion out of his own thoughts, and he finally moved closer.

“Ah, well, you see- what do you want for your last name, Dave? You know I’ll be formalizing Sunny’s adoption, which means we’ll finally be obtaining,” emphasis was put on the word, because in reality it meant forging, “papers for her, and I thought you’d probably be in need of some too. We can use whatever is on your birth certificate, but if you want to pick something out yourself...”

A smile formed under Dave’s mustache.

“I already know what I’m using.”

Hal perked up, “You do? What is it?”

With the same simple, to the point gruffness he would never quite be rid of, the one legendary soldier answered in a single word.

“Emmerich.”

All sounds except the Nomad’s machinery working overtime on her last voyage and David’s unfortunately heavy breathing ceased for an eternally long moment, Hal’s face journeying between every emotion he possessed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and his attempt to stifle his sniffles failed.

He probably wouldn’t have admitted it at the beginning, but something David had always loved about Hal was his ability to keep crying. No matter the hardships he faced, the traumas, the evils and cruelties he bore witness too, he didn’t run out of tears. His compassion was a well that ran deep, and those tears were just a result of it overflowing.

“Dave...of, of course,” his expression betrayed some amusement past the waterworks, “Do you want me to list you as my brother, or-”

“You know exactly what it’s going to say, Hal.”

They both laughed now, such different sounds than it was just a year ago even. David had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and Hal had been across the room, but that distance closed as Hal kneeled on the floor, placing his hands on David’s knees. It was a gesture that David had previously classified as pitying, but he knew better, now. 

It wasn’t for his comfort at all.

“Thank you, David.”

David had half a mind to ask what it was like to kiss an old man with a mustache, but they didn’t have the time for jokes like that anymore, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

---

The eyeroll David had given when Hal told him the name of the town they’d be living in was named Jupiter was so legendary it surpassed his previous exploits with ease. But, despite how silly it was, he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest. 

They’d gotten their trip to Jupiter, just a little late.

Jupiter, Washington, was as small as a small mountain town got. It didn’t even have an elementary school for Sunny to attend (she was bussed to the neighboring, larger town). Most residents were the descendants of the people who had first lived there, so their new faces stuck out for awhile, but they eventually concluded what was essentially the truth, albeit missing some key details, and moved on- they were just two retirees, hoping to live out what was left of the older one’s life in peace with their orphaned granddaughter, nothing exciting.

Hal laughed at how huffy David had gotten at the granddaughter comments.

For the first month, their time there was peaceful. Content. Happy.

The second month, David starting being able to spend less and less time out of bed.

In the third month, he took Hal aside.

“You should stop sleeping in the same bed as me.”

His husband was a genius, he knew exactly why, but he still asked anyway.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

That he didn’t want Hal to wake up one sunny spring morning cuddling a corpse.

Tears were shed, as they always were, but he complied nonetheless. All of David’s belongings were transferred to the guest bedroom (Hal had tried to convince him to stay in the master bedroom, it was more comfortable, but David was adamant- that was where Hal would be staying in the future, and he didn’t want his ghost lingering in the air whenever he slept).

On the first day of the fourth month, right after sending Sunny off to school, Hal told him they were getting a dog for her.

“She loves those chickens, and I thought she might like another pet.”

“Or is it to replace me?” he asked, morbid mirth nearly buried under the pure gravel that had become his voice, “Seems to fit perfectly.”

Hal’s eyes, sad and weary, seemed to want nothing to do with this conversation, but he participated for his partner’s sake, “How so?”

“It’ll bark at strangers, bite the hand that feeds, and just generally be a pain in your ass.”

Despite himself Hal did laugh, not entirely bitter, “We’ll train it better than that.”

“Don’t train it too well. Won’t remind you enough of me.”

Fifth month, they had a dog. Rex, a joke on two layers- a name so common it was funny, and a reminder of one man’s shame that he’d never quite shake off. Not a husky, because while that would please David, they’d be keeping it long term and that level of energy just wouldn’t suit their needs. Rex was an adolescent Golden Retriever. 

The dog of the American dream.

Almost like he could tell David wouldn’t be around long enough to justify getting attached, Rex mostly ignored him. The feeling was mutual. 

Sunny loved them both dearly, and that was enough.

---

They had been there half a year, and Sunny made them breakfast. Her specialty, eggs fried to methodical perfection, toast just a little browner than anyone would like, maple sausage microwaved for ten seconds more than the instructions said just to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, and a glass of pulpless orange juice tucked precariously into the crook of her arm as she carried the meal to Uncle Dave’s bedroom.

It was two minutes after Hal watched Sunny depart from the kitchen that he heard a loud crash, glass and ceramic shattering, followed by Rex’s insistent barking and whining. He was on his feet and rushed to the scene, fearing the worst and finding exactly that.

“Oh, Sunny... Sunny...”

“U-Uncle H-Hal,” she barely managed through her cries. Rex, to his credit, ignored the food on the ground and nuzzled at her face, whining, confused and upset by the noises of unparalleled distress his beloved human was emitting. Stifling his own grief, Hal went over to the young girl and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

He didn’t do a great job at holding that grief in after all.

“Sunny, Sunny, Sunny... I’m so sorry... I should have checked up on him when I woke up... It’s okay, Sunny...”

“H-He’s d-d-dead. J-Just,” her stutter was exacerbated by her choking sobs, “J-Just l-like my m-mother.”

The downside of having such a bright child was that you couldn’t shield them from life’s harsh realities that easily. There was no convincing Sunny that Uncle Dave was with the birds in the clouds, or any other such comforting tale. 

He was dead and gone, and she knew that.

---

The gravestone read:

               David Emmerich

       Beloved father and husband.

All three of those titles were ones he had only worn for six months, but he had worn them with honor.•

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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[nightowlfandom]

Yandere! Jeon Jungkook- You’re My Prey

Why Hello there! ANON ASKS

Greetings! I hope all is well with you! Could I please request a smutty angsty predator Jungkook x Prey Reader with sprinkle fluff at the end? like jk is the readers bully and realizes that he likes her but she avoids him like covid lmao. so he protects her from someone or something and she starts to trust him? oml that sounds like a lot🤣🤣 U are an amazing writer!!

BRUH YOU HAD ME AT ‘AVOIDS HIM LIKE COVID LOL’ 

Sooooo I didn’t touch on the smut part, and I’m very sorry! Tbh I was a bit overwhelmed writing this one and I kept getting stressed because I hated every draft I made before the final draft.

So this contains a bit of sensitive material, proceed with caution

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

You sat in front of the vanity as your mom styled your hair. She hummed as he took your strands in her hands.

“I saw this style in an issue of Vogue...I know you’ll love it.” she commented.

Tonight was perhaps the biggest event of your mom’s career. She has been a avid participant in the entertainment industry for years and she was invited to some crazy event with her celebrity friends and wanted you to come as her plus one. People knew she had a daughter, but they had never really seen you before. You stayed out of the spotlight when you could.

Except for tonight. Your mom had stared as the lead in a huge show, and a party was being thrown to celebrate it’s popularity and final episode. You were honored but nervous.

“Look at you!” she winked at you in the mirror. “Come on, we’re running fashionably early.” she ushered you out the chair.

...

Ugh, how much longer was this gonna last. Your feet were killing you! Your mom seemed to be having the time of her life though. She was drinking and dancing and carrying on as if she was a young college student.

“She seems to be having fun.” a voice said from behind you. 

“Don’t get any ideas. That’s my mother.” you seethed. You were protective of your mom, going as far as to curse out anyone who set their sights on her whether it was positive or negative. While people didn’t know you as a celebrity, they knew you as the one who knocked the living daylights out of an ex idol who tried to touch your mother’s ass on a variety show backstage.

“Don’t worry, pet. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once you recognized the voice, you froze. Of course he would be here! You slowly turned around, seeing Jungkook standing there with a sick smile on his face. “Missed me?”

“No!” you said a little to swiftly. You should have asked if anyone you knew was gonna be there. You felt like an idiot. Jungkook literally sang half the soundtrack for her show, of course he’d be here!

“Oh how rude.” he cooed. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” he shrugged. 

“You though wrong.” you looked him up and down. “I swear it’s like you’re following me sometimes.”

“You could say that...but just know I’ll always be there for you...watching.”

 “J-just stay away from me!”

To say he had some sort of infatuation with you as an understatement. Everywhere you went, he somehow turned up. It was like he could smell you from miles away. 

“Dear Y/N, don’t make a scene.” he stepped forward just so he could whisper in your ear. “Wouldn’t want to cause a disturbance.” you could feel the smirk on his face and all you wanted to do was slap it right off.

“Stay back.” you stepped away. “Leave me alone.” you pointed warningly. You attempted to walk away, only to feel him grab your hand. 

Tingles shot up your spine as you touched. You shuddered, his skin was hot. You took one look at Jungkook. He seemed to be in a trance, he was staring at your hand, following it up your arm, passing over you shoulder and up your neck to stare at your face. 

When you finally came to your senses, you yanked your arm back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay alright.” he rolled his eyes, seemingly going back to normal as well. “Just don’t get into any trouble, pet.” he scoffed. “By the way, you look good in that dress.” he drank you in. You felt exposed, very exposed. You could almost feel a draft. You glared at his back as he stalked off. That’s how it was, Jungkook was nothing more than an arrogant tease that made you wanna strangle somebody. 

“Alright, I’m done.” you groaned, holding your head. You looked for your mom in the crowd. She was busy laughing with a whole bunch of her friends. You didn’t wanna leave without telling her. You’d just leave her a message.

From across the room, Jungkook watched you leave. He hated to see you leave, but watching you walk away was so gratifying. He knew you didn’t really hate it. In fact, it was amusing to watch you lie to yourself. You were lying about not wanting him, about hating him.

He knew you were lying because he would feel if you hated him. Just like he could feel the want dripping off your body. You were simply lying to yourself.

... (A few days later)

Your mom had left for another show, which left you home alone for a while. She would be filming in Japan, which meant you would have the house all to yourself. That meant you were left to your own devices when it came to fending for yourself. You hated calling your mothers assistant, he had his own family and your mom to worry about. You could handle going to the convenience store by yourself.

“Thank you for shopping with us!” the cashier waved you off as you left the store. You threw your trash in the nearby bin and began walking back. It was cold out, which prompted you to hug yourself.

What you didn’t know, is that you were being followed.

You were walking on the empty street. It was late and all the major shops had closed for the night. Your only source of light were the dimly lit tiny restaurants that were still open, and street lights that flickered as you passed. 

You kept walking, ignoring that feeling in your stomach that told you you were in trouble. You just had to speed up, it was like something in you was screaming at you. A few seconds passed and you couldn’t help but turn around.

A man was standing a few feet behind you. It was way too dark to see.

“Wha-...” you began walking away, praying it was just a coincidence. You turned a corner, he followed. You turned another corner, he followed.

You were now certain he was following. You couldn’t help cut cut through the street to get to the other side, but he followed then and there. You couldn’t help but begin to run, now scared out of your mind.

You turned behind you one more time to see him speed-walking. In your haste you didn’t see Jungkook walking out of an alleyways. You rammed into him, only to scream bloody murder.

“Y/N?” Jungkook grabbed your shoulders. You were practically crying. This was the first time you were actually happy to see Jungkook of all people. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Someone’s following me!” you pointed down the street. Jungkook took one look in the direction where you were pointing.

You were way too scared to see his gaze harden into a glare. His blood practically boiled. 

“Stay here.” he grunted, storming in the direction towards the man. “Hey buddy!” he barked, strutting over. 

Jungkook glared in the direction of the sorry idiot who dared try and apprehend his catch. 

...

Jungkook took you back to his place, your home would be empty for the night and you didn’t wanna be alone in that moment. You sat on the sofa, hugging yourself. 

If he hadn’t been there, something bad would have happened, you knew that much. It was the first time you were grateful. 

Jungkook had to gather himself. Rage shot through his body in his attempt to protect you. His senses were still in overdrive and he was sure he looked crazy. He watched you as you got comfortable, still hugging yourself.

“T-thank you.” you said for maybe the third time that night. 

“Y/N. You really don’t have to thank me.” he laughed. “I told you I’d be there for you every minute, or every day.”  He walked over and sat down next to you.

You finally studied his face. His smile that never reached his eyes looked very different now than it ever did. His eyes were dark with something you couldn’t really read. 

“Even after I’ve been so horrible to you?”

“You may think of it that way, but I don’t.” 

“How do you think of it?” you tilted your head to the side. You were genuinely interested in how Jungkook perceived your declaration of hatred towards him.

“You shouldn’t make that face.” he giggled, glossing over the subject. “I might have to ruin your innocence.” 

“Ruin my-” you trailed off. It was only then you realized how close he was. Jungkook towered over you, so it was easy for his body to cast a shadow over yours. “You’re really close.” you mumbled.

“Hm, isn’t that the point?” he winked. “Your skin is so soft.”

To Jungkook’s delight, you didn’t pull away when his lips ghosted over yours. You shuddered at the mere tickle of his touch. It was like a batch of pheromones had gone out into the air because all you wanted in that moment was him. In some way or another. However it surprised him when you were the one to go for it, pressing your lips gently against his. 

A low growl ripped through his throat as he rested his hand on the side of your neck. He returned you affections just as quickly as you gave it. 

You tasted better than he thought. Your innocence was like a drug. It was heavy. He hummed with delight as you reached your hands up to run through his hair. He was happy, you didn’t know it in that moment, but you were accepting it. Your fate as his. After tonight it would be set in stone. 

As you pulled away from Jungkook, you inhaled sharply. “W-woah.”

“Surprised, babe?” he began crawling over you, sending you back against the plush surface. “I knew you’d fall for me sooner or later.” 

You were too consumed by the sight of him above you. The lights casted a halo over him. He almost looked like an angel. “I could eat you up right now Y/N.” he whispered. “Your soul is exposed to me right now.”

He drew his tongue down your neck. Leaving opened mouth kisses along your skin. You were warmed up in an instant despite being cold moments earlier. You practically squeezed your legs together in an effort to ease what you were feeling, but Jungkook was no fool.

Finally he’d get what he’d been yearning for. After so long.

...

It was the dead of night when you woke up. Your naked body was flush against Jungkook’ in what you assumed was his bed. Jungkook was practically atop you, laying his head on your chest. You tried to shimmy out of his grip and when you successfully did, you sat up.

Aches and pains shot through your body as flashbacks of moments before flooded your body.  You could hear his shallow breaths in your ear telling you how much he adored you. Every bite and scratch he had left burned, but in a good way. 

Words couldn’t describe how it felt enough. 

“You weren’t thinking of leaving me, were you?” You looked down at Jungkook who tiredly wiped his eyes. “Fuck.” He glossed over your naked body. You were practically marked from head to toe.

“No.” you replied. “My arm was falling asleep because you were laying on me.” you replied, laughing dryly. He sat up himself, only to trail his fingertips up your arm. He shifted behind you and began placing kisses along your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you and practically pulled you back down onto the bed with him. 

...

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Sleep Therapy

A Frederick Chilton x Reader fanfic written in collaboration with the lovely and talented @pascalispretty​ . I can’t believe that we have been writing smut with each other since before we went under quarantine and this is the first time we’ve actually gotten our acts together and published it. I refuse to apologize for this, y’all were warned lol. I now dedicate this to my favorite prickly, grumpy, lonely, little asshole man, Frederick (never Freddy) Chilton.

Part One of the series A Sign That Someone Loves Me Part Two: Laugh With Me a Little

Warnings: sex, somnophelia, drug use, inappropriate use of prescription drugs, over stimulation, dubious consent, references to voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), Fred being Fred

Rating: yeah, this is definitely M folks  Word Count: 6111 sorry not sorry lol Summary: It’s been a long week for you and your fiancé and you’re exhausted. Yet Dr. Chilton has always been a firm advocate for the unorthodox, and a little sleep therapy might do you both a world of good. 

The project that you had been working on all week was finally finished. No more early mornings, no more late nights, no more spending more time at the office with the coworkers you were at best acquaintances with than at home with your lovable asshole fiancé. Said lovable asshole fiancé who had also had a busy week at work. 

You had woken up this morning with the intention of dragging him to your bedroom as soon as you got home and demanding he make up for an entire week without sex, but when you finally open the door and toss your keys on the table, the thought of doing anything more strenuous than crawling into bed was too much. 

You find Fred waiting for you in the kitchen, and by the looks of his discarded suit coat and rolled up sleeves, he had beaten you home by at most a half an hour. He had already helped himself to dinner, judging by the empty takeout carton on the kitchen counter. He has the good grace to at least look guilty about having eaten without you.

“Hey, you. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, and I was ravenous.” He says, by way of an apology. You’re too tired to even tease him about it; you just want to get out of your work clothes, and fall into bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m too tired to eat anyway.” Your eyelids are heavy as you strip off your jacket and kick your shoes off, letting them fall next to the kitchen island. He frowns at you as you kiss the side of his head and give his hair a brief ruffle (it was soft and nearly product free at the end of the day and, even exhausted, you were incapable of not playing with it a little) before squeezing his shoulder and making your way out of the kitchen and back to the stairs. 

“I’m going to head up to bed, today kicked my ass.” You call over your shoulder, not expecting, but not entirely unsurprised either to hear the legs of the kitchen stool he had been sitting on scrape across the floor as Fred stands to follow you up to your room. He grabs your fingers as the two of you make your way up the stairs and presses them gently. 

You throw yourself onto the giant bed Fred insists is entirely necessary, not bothering to draw the curtains, thinking that you’ll just rest for a few minutes before getting undressed. Fred sits on the bed next to you and rests a hand on your leg. His hands are so broad and warm, and as tired as you are, you still sigh at the light touch. 

“Come cuddle me.” You mumble, feeling the mattress shift beneath you as Fred settles himself comfortably beside you, resting his head on your tummy. It’s an entirely deliberate choice of position on his part; he enjoys you playing with his hair almost as much as you enjoy playing with it, and you don’t hesitate to slide your fingers back into his thick black hair. 

He grumbles happily and rests more of his body against you, trapping one of your thighs between his legs as he lies half on top of you. As exhausted as you are, you don’t miss the little flick of his hips against your thigh; clearly, it’s been a long week for him as well. 

You smile sleepily down at the top of his head, fingers digging into his hair, deliberately attempting to solicit another twitch of his cock against your leg. You were so tired but he was so warm and heavy and you loved the feeling of him hardening against you. And just because you aren’t in any kind of shape to be participating doesn’t mean that Fred can’t have some fun- he’s proven that exhaustion and even sleep aren’t really barriers to his getting the two of you off before. 

More than once, you’ve woken up to his face between your thighs and halfway to a breathless climax. Even in the early days of your relationship his desire to watch you, in any sense, was evident; he liked cuddling you close and watching you fall asleep as much as he liked watching through the glass while you showered. 

You feel the satisfied and happy noises Fred is making deep in his chest where he’s pressed against you when you tug a little on his hair and drag your nails gently across his scalp. The low, almost vibrating purr that emanates from the broad body on top of you is nearly as exciting as the hands he trails up your torso to settle on top of your breasts- rubbing across your nipples through your bra and your shirt. Fred digs his face, with it’s pointy sharp nose and it’s pouty lips perpetually drawn into a smirk, into your belly and hums quietly. 

“I thought you were tired.” He murmurs against your stomach, nuzzling against your skin where the hem of your shirt has ridden up. As good as he feels- his comforting bulk on top of you, those exquisite hands on your breasts, the soft mouth against your abdomen- you know you’re far too tired to do anything. You’re so comfortable, sprawled out in the sunlight streaming through your open windows, that you feel like you’re going to drift away any second. 

“I am. Why don’t I have a nap; you can always have some fun of your own.” You manage, having to fight back a yawn in order to finish your sentence. Fred hums contentedly as you carry on playing with his hair, the silky strands so soft under your fingers. 

“As much as I would love to take you up on that,” Fred murmurs against your tummy, and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, “I know that you’d never sleep through what I want to do to you. And you really do need to catch up on your sleep.” With a long sigh that feels warm on your exposed skin, he moves to roll off you. Tired though you might be, you don’t want Fred to stop. Instead, you clutch at his shoulders as inspiration strikes. 

“Don’t you still have those horse tranquilizers locked in your office?” 

“They aren’t ‘horse tranquilizers’.” He replies snippily, though his imperious tone is utterly belied by the image of his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions as he lifts his head up a little to look at you. You can’t resist a quiet snort at the sight of him, normally so compulsive about his grooming, and you shoot back, trying not to laugh at your “dignified” lover,

“Might as well be. I nearly slept for 14 hours the last time you gave me one of those.” He looks up at you, green eyes soft and surprisingly not offended, chin digging into your belly and shrugs. He rests his cheek on your bare skin again and you sigh, thinking that that’s the end of that as he nuzzles into your stomach, only to watch him sit bolt upright when he catches your meaning. Those sharp green eyes search your face intently. 

“You want me to drug you, and then have sex with you while you’re unconscious?” He says incredulously, the image of outrage only spoiled by the fact that you can still feel his half-hard cock against your thigh.

You shrug one shoulder at him, limbs loose and fuzzy as you try to stay awake enough to soothe his now very ruffled feathers and convince him that this is a good idea. 

“You like going down on me when I’m asleep. Why is this any different?” You ask. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, hands on your legs, silent for a moment. 

“Normally the point of that is to eat you out until you wake up. Not deliberately put you to sleep to eat you out.” He mumbles, sounding more hesitant than rejecting the idea outright. 

“True,” you grant, rubbing the backs of his hands. “But tell me you wouldn’t like getting to tell me all about the fun time we had when I wake up in the morning.” You see and feel his cock twitch at the idea of describing in detail eating you out- talking was one of life’s greatest pleasures for your loquacious asshole. 

“It doesn’t have to be a whole pill. And I do want this Fred, I swear. But if you aren’t in the mood...” You trail off and watch him carefully. You can practically see him weighing the idea up in his mind, the thought of being able to touch you and fuck you while you slept, without fear of waking you, clearly interesting him. 

“Well, Doctor Chilton?” You ask, settling yourself more comfortably against the pillows. “Am I going to have to sign a medical consent form to convince you?” He rarely looks so torn; worked up further by your use of his title, yet still bothered by something. 

“What if I hurt you? You won’t be able to tell me if something’s wrong.” He says eventually, sounding so adorably concerned that if you were less tired, you would have sat up and pulled him in for a cuddle.

Instead you smile softly at him and tug on his hands to pull him down to you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck. 

“Oh, Fred,” you soothe. “Darling you won’t hurt me, you never hurt me. You’re always so careful.” He shakes his head, nose rubbing against your neck. 

“I might though, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me to stop.” You stroke his hair gently. Fighting sleep with him so warm and heavy and soft on top of you was getting difficult. 

“Then be gentle. Like you always are. And think of it this way, you can check me out like you sometimes want to afterwards, and I won’t complain or laugh at you about it,” you try, smiling down at the top of his head.

Once, after a rougher session than Fred usually indulged in, he had asked you questions about pain or discomfort, while trying to check you for internal bruising. You allowed the questions but when he tried to shuffle down the bed to stick his fingers back in and look, you pinched his ear and shoved his hands away. 

“I’m a trained medical professional you know,” he grumped at you, worried and offended now. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Oh yeah? How many years ago did you do a rotation in gynecology? I’m fine Fred, go to sleep.”

You know you have him then. He groans low against your skin, before leaning back so he can look you in the eyes. 

"You promise me that you want this?" He asks sincerely, his fingers curling under your chin and encouraging you to look up at him. You nod sleepily, fighting off a yawn.

“I promise. As long as you tell me about it in the morning. I want all the details." You add, squeezing him as best as you can given how tired you are. Fred gives you a long look, and kisses you softly before rolling off of you and getting off the bed. He disappears, and you have to fight to stay awake without the distraction he provided, your eyelids so heavy you feel like you might well pass out before he gets back. It only takes him a few minutes to reappear, carrying a glass of water and a pill. 

"I'm only giving you half." He says, putting it carefully into your hand as you sit up enough to be able to take it. It's bitter on your tongue, so you swallow it quickly, washing it down with the water before he can have any second thoughts. He watches you like a hawk as you lie back down. 

"It'll take about an hour to kick in." You hardly hear him, falling back against the pillows and pulling the covers around you out of habit. Drowsily, you think that you should have undressed first, but you're too tired to pay it much mind. You feel Fred pressing delicate kisses to your face, one over each eyelid, one on the tip of your nose, and the barest brush of his lips to your own.

"Sweet dreams, my dear."

~X~

You wake up slowly the next morning, warm and cocooned in seemingly every blanket in your bedroom plus a heavy still snoring psychiatrist. The early morning blueish grey sunlight filters through the big windows Fred loves so much and lands on the bed next to you. Fred’s arms are loose around you, his body draped halfway on top of yours. 

You smile faintly when you notice you’re wearing one of his shirts under all of the blankets and that your hair is done up in one of the ridiculously elaborate braids that he likes to show off with on occasion. Yes Fred, you have very long, very clever fingers, congratulations, you think to yourself with an indulgent smile. You shift your legs, stretching out and tangling them with his, and Fred’s arms tighten around you.

"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty." He mumbles against your collarbone, giving you a little squeeze as he stirs. You take his use of the nickname as a good sign; certainly your body feels pleasantly loose, the hint of an ache between your thighs telling you that at least something happened last night. Pressing your lips against the top of Fred's head, you shiver a little as his fluffy hair tickles your face. 

"Morning yourself." You sigh happily, wrapping yourself around him and trying to encourage him to lie more directly on top of you. You're itching to ask him what happened last night, but you're not entirely sure yet if he's still half-asleep. He lets you pull at him, his warm, broad bulk settling over you and pressing you comfortably into the mattress as you wrap your legs around him. He must be fully awake; he pulls the collar of his shirt away from your neck so he can press a kiss there.

He continues to kiss every spot on your neck and collarbone that he can reach without moving his head and you sigh, relaxing under him. You can feel every inch of him on your body- the soft scratch of his stubble on your chest, the bare skin of his legs brushing against yours, the soft cotton of his boxer briefs rubbing deliciously against your clit. You snicker quietly. Of course he didn’t put your underwear back on. 

“Mmm, feel good this morning,” you mumble quietly, eyes closed. He nips at your collarbone and you feel a smirk stretch across his lips against your skin. 

“You should,” he mutters. “You certainly came enough.” He brags proudly and you’d slap his shoulder but the light ache between your legs feels so good you know he isn’t lying. With a groan, you stretch out beneath him and slide your fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, letting your nails scratch ever so lightly against his scalp. Fred makes a soft, satisfied little noise in the back of his throat at the feeling; he must have missed you playing with his hair last night. Instead of answering straight away, he drags his tongue up your throat, tracing the line of your jugular vein and making you shiver at the sensation. 

“Does it bother you that you don’t know?” His breath is hot against the side of your jaw, and your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair. “Or does it turn you on?” He practically purrs, nipping at your earlobe. 

You pant lightly, shivering, your fingers clenching in his hair as his hands find their way inside of his shirt, long clever fingers dancing across your skin and brushing quickly over your nipples. You can feel yourself getting wet as his teeth nibble gently on your ear and the soft hairs at the back of your neck prickle at the feeling. 

“Turns me on.” Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he nods. You don’t have the wherewithal right now to try and tease him; he’s so warm and heavy on top of you, and you feel so loose and satiated. It hardly matters if your words go straight to his ego. It sounds as though he more than earned the right to be smug last night. 

“Oh I can tell. I can feel you all over the front of my shorts,” he informs you, voice deeper and his erection growing between you. “Well, I suppose telling you all about it was part of the deal.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “You were such a good girl, you came six times last night.”

“Six?” You ask with a whimper; no wonder you feel so loose and languid and just a little sore. Your last record was four before you had had to drag Fred away from you by the hair and plead with him tearfully that you needed him to stop. Your legs tighten around him reflexively and  he nods, his nose bumping against your cheekbone. 

“Six.” Fred confirms smugly, pinching one of your nipples and making you gasp. “I wanted to try for more, but you were starting to get...twitchy.” He says with a snicker. His fingers slide lower, working open the buttons of the shirt you’re wearing. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin sends a jolt of heat directly to the center of you, and you gasp as his fingers move lower and lower down your body. 

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen yourself. All pliable and pretty for me.” The smirk on his face is downright feral, and you can’t help yourself as you grind your hips up against him. “You were doing that in your sleep, you know. Rubbing yourself up against my pants while I was playing with your nipples. I thought you were going to make yourself come from just that when I started sucking them.” He sounds so smug and self-satisfied, but you want more. You’re practically about to beg him to let you record what he’s saying, god his voice does things to you that you’re pretty sure are criminal offenses in some states, but you choose your words with more care than that. 

“Start at the beginning. Please Fred, tell me everything.” Your soft little plea is accompanied by another tug on his hair, another little buck of your hips. He hums against your cheek, his palms cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. His hands are warm, and broad, and you arch your back into his touch, desperate to press as much of yourself against him as possible. 

“Should I walk you through it? Step by step?” You moan and nod sharply, his nose dragging against your face. He kisses your cheek and ruts his hips softly against yours, the drag of his semi-hard cock against your clit making the muscles in your legs spasm and jerk. “Well,” he begins. “I held you while you fell asleep, that was nice. You know how cuddly you get when you’re sleepy.” He nips at your nose and kisses you quickly on the mouth. 

“That didn’t take too long, and god you were so soft in my arms.” His thumbs brush across your nipples and you gasp, hips arching into him and his hard cock again. “Then I kissed you, all over your face, all over your neck, as I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it across the room.” 

He presses his forehead to yours and one of his hands leaves your breast and comes up to your chin. He turns your face to the side and whispers, “Look. Open your eyes and look, it’s over there, hanging off that armchair.” You look and sure enough there’s your blouse, hanging half off the chair he loves to sit in when he watches you get yourself off. He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when he sits back and orders you to take your clothes off and touch yourself, and it goes straight to your core. 

Fred chuckles right into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Your pants were next. They seemed easier to slip off, and I didn’t know if the pill had fully kicked in enough. Once they were gone, I knelt between your legs, and just looked at you for a while. Deciding what to do with you.” You can picture it so clearly; Fred, still practically fully dressed, while you were splayed out half-naked and unconscious for him. It’s a mental image that is far too attractive for what it is. The enlightened feminist in you knows you shouldn’t be as turned on as you are by it, but when has that ever stopped you exploring some of Fred’s less conventional kinks. 

“I think I ended up kissing every inch of you last night. I started at one ankle, and covered you in kisses, all the way up to your forehead and then back down your other leg.” With the hand that’s still cupping your face, he brushes his fingertips delicately over your lips. “You were smiling in your sleep.” Fred says smugly, his smirk only broadening when you open your mouth and start to suck lightly on the tips of his fingers. If it weren’t liable to make him too breathless to continue, you’d offer to suck his dick while he talks, but you’ll happily settle instead for those gorgeously long fingers of his. 

“I could see how wet you were through your underwear by then. I’d barely touched you, but you were already soaked.” He groans, long and pleased, as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can still smell yourself on them, but all you can taste is him so he must have beaten you to licking them off. 

“Fuck, you were so wet, I didn’t even bother trying to put them back on. Even after I spent hours on you they were still damp.” You moan around his fingers and he squeezes your breast. “I slipped them off of you and spread your legs and, god, love, you were laying there so sweet and nice and ready for me.” He lets go of your breast and runs his hand down your side, stopping to hang onto your hip.

“I didn’t start there though. I still had to get your bra off- you didn’t even stir when I broke the clasp.” He squeezes at your hip, but makes no move to stop your little thrusts as you try and grind against his cock, frustrated at the lack of friction. 

“I spent so long on just your breasts; kissing them all over, sucking and biting at your nipples.You absolutely soaked the front of my pants, trying to rut up against me.” He says with a low chuckle. You can’t even fault him for sounding so smug; clearly you didn’t even need to be conscious to be desperate for him. 

“And when I just couldn’t wait anymore, I gave in and started licking that sweet little cunt of yours.” Fred pinches your thigh, and you moan as best as you can around his fingers. For having seemed so hesitant about the idea at first, he had clearly taken to it eagerly. 

You could feel just how eager he was to just tell you about it by the way he was pressed hard and hot against your cunt, letting you grind your hips against him in a desperate bid to get off. Except for the occasional tiny thrust that he seemed incapable of resisting, Fred held absolutely still and let you try to work off of him yourself. 

“And oh, you tasted so sweet. Feeling your thighs twitch next to my head every time my nose brushed or bumped against your clit- because I had to clean off such a messy, wet workspace first, I couldn’t just go for the treat I really wanted- was delightful. Every time I licked over your cunt, or dipped the tip of my tongue inside a little you’d twitch, but besides those little spasms you didn’t move away from my mouth at all. Why, I hardly had to do any work at all darling.” You drag your teeth across his knuckles and his fingers dig into your thigh as he lets out a loud gasp, rocking his erection, still trapped in those stupidly tight boxer briefs, hard against you. 

“Fuck, yes, those were orgasms numbers one and two; just me, cleaning up your mess before we could really get to the main event. And I took my time.” You were sure he did.

“Normally number three is when you start pulling at my hair like you want to scalp me.” He teases, dragging his nose along your neck and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. Even after spending half the night indulging in you, it’s as though he still can’t get enough of you. 

“But last night, you were such a good girl, letting me suck on your clit and fuck you with my tongue as much as I wanted. I even spat on your cunt, just to see whether that would get more than a twitch out of you. I think it just made you jump.” Another low chuckle rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your neck, and you whine around the fingers filling your mouth. The idea of Fred doing that is too much; you slip one hand from his hair and scratch at his back as you try to pull him, impossibly, closer to you. 

“That was number three and number four.” He says, hissing slightly at the catch of your nails against his skin. “By then, I thought I’d conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see if you were wet enough for me to get four of my fingers inside of you.” Oh and the thought of that, combined with the rock of your clit against his cock and the drag of his underwear against that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from last night, is just too much. 

You’re on the brink of another orgasm, it feels so good it almost hurts, and you whine around his fingers as you imagine the feel of nearly all of his fingers inside you. If you didn’t think it would leave you sore, you’d ask him to do it again now that you’re awake, just to see for yourself. 

“Yes, my darling, four. We’ve only ever done three before, I know, but,” he licks lightly at your neck. “I figured now was the time to push our luck, with you so wonderfully soft and pliant beneath me.” You rock harder against him, faster and faster as he describes putting first one, and then two fingers inside you. 

“Two was easy, and after four orgasms and that sedative you were so relaxed that three wasn’t as difficult as it normally is.” He spreads your legs to give you more room to really move against him and encourages you with a few thrusts of his own. You’re so close- 

“My goodness you’re really enjoying this aren't you? Hearing all about what a good, cooperative girl you were for me, letting me do just what I wanted to you. Are you ready to hear about how slowly I worked on finger number four?” He asks quietly, and you whimper and nod around his fingers in your mouth.

“You were taking three so well, but I know how much you like to be stuffed full. You only had my pinkie to go, just my little finger, but you already felt so tight around the others. I spent so long easing you open, love, stretching your perfect little cunt out so carefully until I could just get the tips of all four fingers in.” You’re rolling your hips faster now, chasing your seventh orgasm in less than twelve hours and scrabbling at Fred’s back in an attempt to get him to meet your thrusts. You feel greedy, and increasingly sore, but you’re utterly helpless to stop yourself. 

“God, it was such a pretty sight. I couldn’t resist watching all four of my fingers disappear inside of you, so slowly that you would have felt every millimetre if you’d have been awake.” As if to emphasize his point, he pushes his fingers a little deeper into your mouth. “Such a good girl, are you going to come again? Give me another, my darling, that’s it.” He coos as you fall apart, sobbing around his fingers as you come. The heat licking its way through your veins is verging on painful, your pleasure laced with a deep ache as your hips stutter and jerk against Fred. 

“That’s it, just like that, yes, oh, that’s wonderful darling,” Fred praises you softly, petting your thigh as you ride through this, aching and jerking against him as he holds still above you. You try to whine his name around his fingers and he chuckles. “What was that?” He asks, finally pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly, grabbing onto your chin and leaving wet marks on your skin. 

“Fred, fuck, that was-” You pause to take a deep breath. “That’s only number five.” Fred grins at you, pouty pretty lips stretched over perfect white teeth. He nods. 

“Number five was with just the tips of my fingers inside you.” He agrees, wet fingers still squeezing your chin. His nose bumps against yours affectionately. “Number six was my favorite.” You can’t look away from his bright, sharp green eyes. “Number six. Wow.” He sighs happily and lets go of your chin and your thigh. Letting himself rest all the way on top of you, his bare skin warm against yours, his weight heavy and perfect, he frames your face with his forearms and cards his fingers through your hair. 

“Oh, I loved number six. Darling, I had four fingers inside of you and you were just so tight.” He ruts gently against your sore and aching cunt. “You were so tight so I just pushed them all the way in so, so slowly, and then, with all of them deep inside of you, I got to use my tongue on your clit one last time.”

You’re aching so much already, and every drag of his hips makes your clit hurt, but you need to be closer to him. Impatiently, you pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down just enough to free his cock. 

“Need you, please Fred. I need you inside me.” You whimper, utterly beyond caring about how smug he looks; he’s more than earned it. 

“You were making the sweetest little noises by number six, love. The softest gasps and hitches in your breathing; I thought I was going to come in my pants like a teenager.” He cuts himself off with a low grunt as he slides against your soaked entrance, one of his hands slipping between your bodies so he can guide himself into you. You cry out sharply as he fills you, the pleasure shadowed by the slightest whisper of pain. 

“After six, I took the rest of my clothes off, and finally fucked you. I thought about moving you onto your tummy for that, but I wanted to watch my cock split you open.” He stays still inside of you, despite your nails scraping lightly along his back and sides, desperately seeking for purchase. Instead, he brushes your hair delicately away from your face, utterly unbothered by your squirming. 

“Fred, Fred please, Jesus, move please...” You whine, shifting underneath him, hitching your legs up around his hips and moaning as he slides deeper into you. 

“Oh, darling, you always take me so well, even after six orgasms.” He rocks his hips slowly and you dig your nails into his sides, gasping as his cock hits a spot inside you that has your whole body aching so good. “There it is,” Fred sighs smugly. Every muscle in your body contracts as he pulls out inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him. His fingers are soft on your face as he holds still just inside you as you pant, eyes tightly shut. 

“Fred...” 

He kisses first one cheek and then the next, and then both eyelids before instructing, “Open your eyes.” You bite your lip and draw a shaky breath before doing so. His green eyes are sharp and as soon as he has your attention he pushes slowly back into you. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises as your eyes slip closed. “Open.” He sets the slowest pace you can ever remember Fred fucking you, staring into your eyes as he takes you apart piece by piece on his cock. He fucks you deeply, and sore or not, you feel a familiar burning feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to boil, your nerves twitching, your legs locking around his waist. It’s a fight to keep your eyes open and on his. 

Somehow it feels so much bigger, so much more, with his eyes locked on you seeing everything, seeing right through you. You need him to come; you don’t think you have another orgasm left in you. 

“This is how I fucked you last night.” Fred says, practically purring when you slide your fingers back into his hair. 

“So slowly, and so deeply that I thought I might hit the end of you. God, I’d spend all my time buried in your perfect cunt if I could, you’re always so tight, and warm, and wet for me. And you were so good last night, so pliant and pretty. My very own Sleeping Beauty.” He huffs a laugh, his breath warm against your skin and only adding to the complete sensory overload you’re experiencing. You buck your hips and try to tighten around him, trying to push him into coming faster. 

“Fred, please, I can’t.” You sob weakly, looking deeply into those piercing eyes of his and searching for a reprieve. Every lick of burning pleasure that’s coiling in your core hurts just a little more than the one that came before, and you truly don’t know how much more you have in you. 

“Oh you can, darling. I know you can, you really can.” He encourages, smile easy, eyes so sure, so confident. You squeeze your legs around his waist and tug hard on his hair. 

“Fred, god-” You break off with another sob, and Fred groans as you clench around his cock inside of you. 

“Just a little more darling, just- fuck, just a bit more.” Fred thrusts harder a few times, hips stuttering, eyes tightening and his hands leaving your hair to grip the pillow next to your head hard, twisting the fabric between his fingers. You cry out as his hips shove hard once, twice and he comes, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face in your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin. 

You clutch him to you tightly as he grumbles happily into your neck, soft satisfied sounds as he presses you into the mattress, cock still jerking inside of you. You breathe heavily underneath him, aching, sore, and content, your nerves still twitching, and your legs still clutched around him. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie like that for, both thoroughly worn out and satiated. It’s not long before the soreness between your legs makes itself known, and Fred doesn’t miss your wince as you try to shift your legs. In an instant he’s sitting up, pulling out of you carefully so as not to hurt you further, those gorgeous green eyes full of concern as he looks you over. As sore as you are, you try to tug him back down on top of you, but he’s having none of it.

“I think you need a hot bath. Doctor’s orders.” He says firmly. You’re in no mood to bicker with him; quite honestly, the idea of relaxing in your claw foot tub with him sounds incredible. Before he can climb out of bed to start running the water, you catch his hand. 

“We’re definitely trying this again, aren’t we?” You say, with an exhausted little laugh. 

[xiaoquanquans]

headcannons on takatora samura / last boss ( aib )

requested by @percivalgravs

warning : violence in general , death <<

a/n : fun fact I had to write this twice because the first time I didn’t press save AaaaAAAAAA

-

hc : participating in a game with samura

this was your second game in the borderlands , fortunately for you , your first one had been a diamond based game

you weren’t really strong on the physical side , it wasn’t your thing because you spent most of your days lazing around and not bothering to spend any time on exercising

oh you regretted that lol

this game also happened to be samura’s second game . his first game was a 7 of spades

he had got his tattoos on the first day that he had entered the borderlands , it was now his 7th day

he had join this game to get more experience and an additional few days could be added to his visa as well

the game was hosted in a school , and 6 people were required to join .

when you entered the school lobby ( which was the starting point of the game ) samura was already there with another 3 participants

a couple and an old man

when you entered you had eye contact with samura and exchanged glances

it turned into a mini staring competition lOl

he refused to look away , trying to intimidate you and it did the trick because you glanced away from him

his tattoos were scaring you , but you found them intriguing

after a few minutes a girl came in and the game was to start because the minimum of 6 participants was reached

everyone had looked experience because nobody bothered to ask any questions

finally the game started and the rules were announced

game : laser tag

participants : 6

6 of clubs

rules : 3 teams will be given a selection out of a variety of guns , each team has 6 players and each player may take up to two guns . the last team standing wins .

cooperate with your teammates , work together and kill the opponents to win

you weren’t exactly happy that this was a physical based game but you were glad that it was something related to guns

your father had a habit of bringing you to the jungle with him in the summer to hunt together , so you were glad that you knew the basics of shooting

glad that something from the past would help you out today

back to the game

suddenly the door that was connecting the lobby to the main hall of the school opened up revealing the dark hall with a table in the middle

the table had a big selection of guns which were scattered across it

you scanned the table and quickly took a deagle which was a pistol

it was easy to use and was your favourite gun , it’s simplicity made it your favourite

you also picked up a glock at the same time , just in case you ran out of ammo

“ tsk , are you that big of a coward ? ” you heard the tattooed man say when he saw that you were only taking pistols

you chose to ignore him , but then he took an ak and shoved it to you

“ take this instead , much more useful than that little gun of yours . ” he said with a smirk

“ i like what i have , thank you. ” you said sarcastically before placing the ak down

suddenly , an alarm rang . signaling that the game was initiated

samura ran towards the exit on the right which lead to the schools hallways

you knew this because you had memorised the school plan earlier by looking at the sign in the lobby while waiting

when he ran towards the exit , his back was facing you

this was the first time you noticed the long katana that was secured on his back

before he left the exit , samura turned around and gave you a look that pretty much said stay alive , before turning the corner

once he left you headed to the place you thought was most secure

which was the roof

on the way there , you encountered a man that was in his late 20s

he had aimed his gun at you , readying his barrel

right when he was about to pull the trigger , he got shot in the head

karma lOl

you ran straight towards the roof , not wanting to have the same fate as the man who nearly killed you

on the way there the hallways were cleared out , dead bodies scattered on the floor

but no signs of other players yet

until you ran into a boy who was blocking the staircase to the roof

he was your soon to be first kill

he aimed for you but before he could pull the trigger , you did instead

a bullet flew through his head and his body dropped onto the ground

you quickly ran up the staircase , muttering a sorry for the poor boy you had just killed

once you reached the roof you had secured it , hoping that no one else would make their way towards it

you were surveiling the schools courtyard from the top not paying much attention to the staircase door

you wish you had , because someone was coming up the staircase

someone who had the intention to kill you

after a while , you finally heard footsteps and you turned around only to be punched in the face

you fell to the ground due to the impact , your nose was now bleeding

the man continued to throw a few more punches at you

before he took out his gun

he aimed for your head

but just before he could pull the trigger you heard footsteps followed by a thud of a body

you vision was blurry , you couldn’t see what was going on clearly but you could see someone holding a katana

this was the end , you thought .

but to your dismay , your so called saviour lifted you up and you came face to face with the tattooed man from earlier

your vision then steadied and you quickly thanked him

he was looking over your body , staring at your bruises that was caused by the man he had killed

while he wasn’t focused , you noticed a man from afar aiming at his knees , attempting to knock him off starting from his feet

you couldn’t pull out your gun in time

so once you heard the trigger being pulled you pushed samura aside

the bullet went straight through your knee

once you fell to the floor , you quickly pulled out your deagle

shooting the man who had pierced a bullet into your knee

it all happened so quick

so when the man was down , samura quickly helped you up

he didn’t say much but he muttered a thank you

for the rest of the game the both of you stayed together , his trying his best to keep you alive while killing the other players

finally the game had ended , leaving your team victorious

the rest of the players in your team were probably dead , because it was only you and him in the lobby

once the game had ended he introduced himself to you

“ samura , that’s what i go by . ”

you had replied back , giving him your name as well .

he thanked you once again for saving him

but he pretty much whispered it because he’s too self centered to apologise properly lol

you were about to split ways but he saw that you couldn’t really walk with your injured knee

so for the first time in his life she volunteered to help someone

she brought you to his base

taking care of you until your knee was healed, he brought you to games with him

and you ended up earning free visa days because he was doing all the work for you

once it was healed the both of you had to part ways

but you promised him that you would see each other again

after all you both were pretty attached to each other at this point

and after about 30+ days , you had arrived at the beach

and you ended up meeting him again

—

ok that was so long

ouch it was a pain that I had to rewrite that twice

anyways hope u like it @percivalgravs <3

taglist : @laraplisetski

[klynn-stormz]

Written in the Stars

Hi everyone! Today is my day to drop my January Joy fic!! It was only supposed to be a one shot, but that didn’t work out so well, lol. I have split it into two parts and the second part should be posted within the next two weeks! So without further ado, here we go, I hope you enjoy it!

AO3: 1 |

Summary:  Emma Swan is enjoying her small town life in Storybrooke, a place where she can raise her son, practice her magic, and lead a relatively normal happy life. What she doesn’t expect is Killian Jones moving to town for business and turning her quite life up on it’s head. She’s not about to let some stranger interrupt it, easier said than done when everyone, including her magic, seems to push them together 

Part 1:

The snow-covered meadow glimmered under the full moon, a layer of untouched smooth snow had crossed the expanse of the forest Emma had walked through. There was something about the way the new snow shined brightly against the dark wood of the trees that made her think she had gone through a portal to a new enchanted realm. Under the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, Emma made her way to the middle of the meadow and took a moment to breath in the cold air. This was her favorite time, the sun had set long ago, the sound of the night animals was quiet and soothing, and not another soul was in sight. This was a time when she could be herself. She set her basket on the ground, it was already brimming with the herbs she had collected from the forest, and brushed the hood of her silvery white cloak off her face, then went to work on her favorite ritual.

 The set up was easy; the symbols drawn in the snow, much easier than in the dirt in her opinion, the herbs needed laid on the outer circle, she stood with a goblet in the middle and uttered the enchantment into the still night. It was a little later this year than she normally preformed, but her duties in town kept her busy until nearly 10 days after the New Year. Henry had finally put his foot down and insisted she preform it tonight, seeing that it was affecting her so. Preforming it late wouldn’t stop the renewal ritual from working, as it always did, she had just felt off until she was able to perform it. The coven in town had performed one on at midnight of New Years, but she rarely participated in the coven activities, preferring instead to keep to herself.

 Storybrooke was the perfect place for her and her son, from a young age her abilities had made it hard to stay in one home long. Left on the side of the road as a newborn she had been sent through the foster system, placed in families until her powers scared them to much for her to continue living there. Many hardships and trials had been sent her way, and each time she picked herself back up again. Eventually ending up in a quiet town of Storybrooke, finding others who practiced as she did. She wasn’t close to many of them, but they and all of Storybrooke had snuck their way into her heart and become family. Henry had taken to Storybrooke quickly, finding friends on the first day of school and worming his way into the hearts of all of the people there. His happiness at their newest home was what sealed her decision to stay, he needed stability and he needed a real home. Now, 5 years later, they were well settled in.

 The ritual completed, the spell seemingly hanging in the frigid air, Emma breathed a deep sigh of relief. A feeling of comfort washed over her as the cleansing and renewal ritual did its job. She carefully picked up her basket and walked to the edge of the meadow, waving her hand the grooves she had created in the snow disappeared as if she had never stepped foot there. Making her way back through the woods to a cozy cottage at the end of town, one she was lucky enough to have a view of the forest and the ocean in, she could never have realized how the new year would change her life.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You’re completely blowing this out of proportion!” Ruby complained.

 “I’m really not.” Emma rolled her eyes while popping an onion ring into her mouth. She was having lunch with a few of her friends at Granny’s. Ruby was insistent on talking about the disaster that was Emma’s dating life, a topic that seemed to be a favorite among her, Mary Margaret, Ana and Elsa. “I’m not doing it again; I will not go through another Walsh incident.”

 “That wasn’t my fault!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, flushing slightly. “How was I supposed to know that he was a creep? He seemed so nice as the bank! Besides, I’m sure that this new man, his name is James, will be much different.”

 Everyone at the table stared at her till she muttered something about Emma becoming an old maid. Normally Emma would be put off and make them promise to stop setting her up, this would be met with mumbling and no eye contact. Normally. Today was different though, it was a cold fresh February morning, and there was something in the air today that made her feel content and almost… safe. It was a rare feeling for her, even in Storybrooke she rarely felt that way. She wasn’t quite sure she could trust the feeling, not one to get her hopes up.

 “I think we should get back to talking about Ruby’s date.” Elsa suggested. She was reserved, much like Emma, while her sister Ana was the most people person Emma had ever met. She gave Mary Margaret a run for her money on talking and gossip.

 “I’d rather talk about the new ship that just sailed in!” Ruby deflected.

 “Storybrooke has a fairly large port, why would a ship be anything special?” Ana paused, then hurriedly continued. “Not that ship isn’t special, I mean everyone is special so that must make it sort of special. Although, if everyone is special no one is right? Wait no, that’s from the Incredibles isn’t it, I need to stop falling asleep watching movies. What I’m trying to say is what makes this particular ship interesting? I’m sure it’s very interesting, but we do get ships in and out of port all the time, and they are all interesting too, especially the ones that trade in magic, but you never want to talk about those ones. I think that we need to discuss—”

 “Okay, that could go on for awhile so I’ll just answer your question now. The Captain and his brother are major hotties and we definitely need to find out more about them.” Everyone at the table was aware that once Ana got started it was best to interrupt her before they spent an hour listening to her ramblings. The current record was actually an hour and twelve minutes before they couldn’t take it anymore.

 “Of course, it would be because you think they’re attractive.” Elsa rolled her eyes at Ruby’s wiggling eyebrows.

 “Oh, believe me, if I wasn’t in an exclusive relationship, I would eat them up.”

 “I knew it! I knew you and Victor were finally serious.” Mary Margaret’s gleeful cry made Emma’s ears ring.

 “As fun as this is, I better get back to work.”

 “Emma you’re the sheriff you can make your own hours, it’s a Monday, nobody wants to work on a Monday!” Ruby whined.

 “And as the sheriff, it’s my responsibility not to spend three hours talking about potentially hot newcomers at lunch and instead protect and serve.” She responded drily. Turning towards the door, she was met with a loud chuckle and vivid blue eyes staring into hers.

 “I assure you, love, I wouldn’t mind if you continued to talk about my attractiveness.” The man gave her a grin that might have stopped her heart, she wasn’t quite sure at the moment, to lost in his eyes. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, she wanted to run her fingers through the strands and brush her palms against the stubble lining his jaw. When she got ahold of herself, she prayed that she hadn’t been staring to long.

 “As I said, I have better things to do.” She sniped, her defenses up, even if they felt different. Normally her magic would be on edge with a stranger near her, but now it seemed to lean towards him.

 That was ridiculous, she was just imagining it.

 She hoped.

 “Well, then it’s best I introduce myself to the law enforcement of this lovely town. Killian Jones at your service.” He bowed slightly and her eyebrows went up.

 “Planning on needing the Sheriff’s department anytime soon Mr. Jones?”

 “Only if the Sheriff is the one to respond.” His wink sent a shiver through her that she worked hard to keep hidden.

 “Emma Swan then,” Forcing her voice to sound clipped and uncaring. He reached down and took her hand; the reaction of her magic was immediate. Bursting around her in little near fireworks that only she could see, she panicked and attempted to reign it in. Her magic never showed itself to other people unless she willed it to; not even Mary Margaret, Ruby or Elsa had ever seen it, though they knew she had it.  He didn’t help any by lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The magic continued to burst around her until he dropped her hand.

 “I should be going.” A quick mumble and a nod of her head was the last thing he saw before she rushed out the door.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 For the rest of the day Emma stewed over her magic, it had taken her a long time to come to terms with what she was, and even longer to learn to control it. As light magic was magic that was inherited and based on emotion, it was harder than dark magic. While dark magic took practice, research and patience, it did not require emotion; Emma’s magic was some of the strongest that Storybrooke had seen in a long time and they relied on her control over it to keep their little town off the radar of those who would exploit it. The local coven worked hard to protect the town, and expected her to do the same.

 She needed to know why her magic reacted differently to him. A flash of Neal went through her mind and her stomach curled at the memory. A man who had taken advantage of a young girl all alone in the world, who had made her believe she was special. The only good thing she had gotten out of that relationship was Henry, and Henry would always be her top priority.

 “Hey mom!” Henry barreled through the door, eyes bright and full of his adventures from school. Her shift finished, she grabbed her jacket, phone and radio, and hugged him.

 “Hey kid, ready for some dinner? I was thinking pizza.”

 “Works for me! We have a new project in English, we get to write a short story.” He dumped his backpack on her desk, then sheepishly picked it up at Emma’s raised brows. “I was thinking I could interview you about some of your magic and—”

 “How about we get some dinner, go home and you can tell me your story over dinner?” Emma asked, grabbing the phone to order.

 Later at their apartment, while they ate their dinner and had the tv playing in the background, Henry told her about his idea. He had gotten nearly to the end when he paused. “I don’t want to spoil the whole story for you.”

 “I thought your teacher said you were supposed to write a short story kid.” She teased him, impressed with his imagination. He’d always had such a wonderful view of the world; Emma was pretty sure she would be buying copies of his books one day. “Why do you need to interview me?”

 “Well, if the princess, Evil Queen, and Dark One are going to have magic I need to know how to write it! I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

 “Alright, tell you what. You get all of your homework done on Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday we will go through a few basic.” He grinned and hugged her tight. When he was all tucked into bed and Emma was reading in her room, she couldn’t help but think of blue eyes and dark hair. Her magic sparked again, a light skittering across the room. She would worry about everything tomorrow. Banishing thoughts of him, she willed herself to sleep.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Killian Jones had seen much of the world in his days, he had seen wonders and mysteries, magic and mayhem, good and bad people, and most everything in-between. As a Captain in the Navy, before he lost his hand in a tragic storm that he nearly lost his brother in, and as a sailor building a business with his brother when they left the Navy. He had been everywhere he’d ever dreamed. Yet, none compelled him as much as the blonde haired, green eyed sheriff that had magic bursting around her as he kissed her hand.

 He’d heard the lasses at the table talking about him and his brother. The long-haired brunette excitedly exclaiming their attractiveness and looking for gossip about them, while the blonde goddess rolled her eyes and looked for an excuse to leave. Seeing her had nearly stopped his heart, he was quite sure of that, only to have it pounding in his ears when their eyes met and time stopped. He could have stared into them forever, wanting to lean closer and brush his lips over hers. He wanted to gather her in his arms and find a private room to kiss her till neither could breathe, after all he wouldn’t need air so long as he had her. He was brought back to himself by the sound of her voice, a bored tone with a hard edge, as if she was putting on a show with it.

 Her eyes shined out at him and he was sure she felt the same as he had, though he was no less embarrassed at where his thoughts had gone immediately. He reigned himself in, flirting just enough with her to get her name. Emma Swan. Fitting, he mused, she had the elegance and grace of one, with high enough walls he knew he’d get pecked if he pushed.

  He didn’t think he’d mind much.

 The moment his lips touched her hand, the white sparks of magic had lit around them, fascinating him. He would have asked her what they were, but for the panic in her eyes when she realized what was happening. He pretended he saw nothing; it could wait till a later date. He had a feeling it would be long till the next meeting.

 When she was gone, he’d ordered at the counter, found a table and waited for his brother. All of his thoughts revolved around Emma.

 “She’s totally single you know.” Came a voice from behind. He turned in his chair to see the group of woman Emma had been with staring at him, a little bit of mischief in their eyes. The one who spoke gave him a wolfish grin. “In case you were wondering.”

 “The sheriff?” He clarified.

 “That’s the one, utterly single and refusing any sort of set up.” The woman with a pixie hair cut and the kindest eyes he’d every seen, replied. “She’s naturally suspicious of people, so you’d have to try pretty hard if you wanted anything to happen.”

 “That is,” Now a woman with frost in her hair and ice in her voice spoke up. “If you’re planning on sticking around.” He smiled at that.

 “My brother and I recently moved our business headquarters to this town, as it’s a good port and unique. We’ll be here for a long while.”

 “Oh that’s just lovely! Emma takes awhile to warm up to people, but you’d definitely want her on your side since she’s the sheriff. Just don’t break any laws and annoy her and you’re good to go.” The final woman had a voice that sprinted instead of walked, he wasn’t sure her mouth was even moving at the speed the words came out.

 “Thank you, ladies, for the advice. I’ll take it into account.” His brother walked through the door then and he was distracted greeting him, nodding a farewell to the women as they left. He smirked slightly when the icy woman ran into his brother and uttered a quick apology, the moment couldn’t have been more than ten seconds and his brother looked starstruck. Looks like they’d both have better reasons to make Storybrooke their new home.

 Liam and he spent the next hour going over some of the logistics of moving the company. It was almost done, the last thing to deal with was selling the old building they’d had back in England. The move to Storybrooke would be better in the long run, while the port wasn’t as big as the one they’d been at, most of their business and suppliers were closer, saving them money in the long run, and they’d just signed three new contracts with new contacts.

 Having heard of Storybrooke’s… unique circumstance, they were drawn to wanting to experience it for themselves. Their mother had been open about her magic from the time she had met their father, he had never really liked it, but dealt with it to be with her. She raised Liam and Killian to believe and practice as well, and though she had died when both were still young, her lessons had stayed with them when their father did not. Neither Liam nor Killian practiced regularly, feeling there were others much more talented that could keep the balance better. However, they preferred a place where they felt comfortable and free. Both had stepped off their ship onto the Storybrooke dock and could feel the rumors had merit. There was magic here, and it seemed to welcome them.

  “Well little brother, it’s time to find some housing I believe. I’ve scheduled a meeting with a realtor tomorrow who will walk us around some of the houses they have here.” Liam clapped his brother on the back, heading towards the back that led to the Bed and Breakfast rooms they’d booked for the week.

 “You mean younger brother,” Killian corrected. “and as long as you know I’m getting my own place then that should be fine.”

 “Of course, you’re not living with me anymore. It’s time for you to stop mooching off of me and get your own space.” The teasing tone made Killian roll his eyes as he bumped into his side a little harder than necessary.

 “Goodnight Liam, see you tomorrow.” Killian went to sleep and dreamt of green-eyed swans and magic.

[charincharge]

“You’ve been giving me bedroom eyes for the past half an hour - time to show me what, exactly, was on your mind.” For Nessian 🥰 a very spicy prompt for a very spicy couple 👀 (ps I feel like all the prompts I request are nessian but that’s just bc I just love them so much 😂)

I changed the prompt a litttle. But. I think it’s okay since this is essentially 3k words of porn with a tinyyy bit of plot. I also combined it with my other Nessian prompt: “Come back to me.” I also didn’t tag anyone because I don’t have an ACOTAR tag list? Whoops. Oh well. Hope this eventually finds someone... lol. 

Nesta hates being late. She thinks it’s the rudest thing someone can be. It’s a simple request, to ask that someone show up on time. It shows that you value them. It’s respectful.

Which is why Nesta shows up to check-in a full three hours early to the Summer International Ballroom Invitational. It’s the biggest competition weekend of the year, and she and her partner, Tarquin, have spent the last six months training their asses off for it.

After checking in, Nesta finds a perch at the hotel bar with a good vantage point of check-in. She wants to scope out the competition from afar. She’s familiar with most of the participants, having danced with them for nearly the last decade.

At six PM, the entrants start coming in droves, and a long line forms behind the check in table. Perfect. Nesta sips at her glass of sauvignon blanc and takes note. She first spots the twins, Ianthe and Tamlin, the gloriously blonde and creepily incestuous partners halfway down the line. No competition there. The pair have notably sloppy footwork, despite their obvious flare for the dramatic.

Next, she finds Amren and Varian. Nesta’s brow furrows. She’s a little concerned about them. Amren might be small, but her stage presence is huge. And because of her small stature, the pair always includes incredibly difficult lifts which garner them extra points, unlike Nesta’s tall, willowy frame, which makes lifts an astonishing challenge.

Further back, she spots her little sister and her boyfriend. She would usually drive to competition with Feyre and Rhysand, but… she can’t bear to be in the same room with them anymore.

Nesta takes another sip of her wine. Her life is very different than it was six months ago.

The hours grow later, but Nesta remains in her spot, her eyes glued to check-in. She should be in bed. Her wake up call is at five AM for hair and makeup, but she can’t bring herself to leave. And she knows why. She’s pathetic.  

She hears his boisterous laugh before she sees him. She’d recognize that sound anywhere. Her skin prickles with anticipation as she drains the last of her wine. She looks at her phone. It’s almost eleven PM. Five hours late. But then again, Cassian never cared about respecting anyone’s time. She tugs at the neck of her dress uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she’d gone to bed with everyone else.

She watches as he tosses his head back and slings his arm over his new partner’s shoulders, amused by something she’s said. Everything Nesta knows about the new girl she has learned against her will. She’s brunette and slim and all angles, just like Nesta. Only where Nesta is pale and grey and cold, she’s tanned and brown and warm. Her name is Emerie, and Nesta loathes her.

Nesta orders another drink as Cassian and Emerie head up to their rooms. Or room. Gods, she hopes it’s rooms. She sips it quietly until the bar empties out. At midnight, Nesta finally decides to retire for the night. But first, she checks the ballroom where tomorrow’s competition will be held. She always does it for good luck. It’s a stupid superstition, but she’s done it before every competition. She runs through her dances on the floor the last thing before going to bed.

Her pulse jumps when she realizes that her former partner has beaten her to it. It makes sense. After all, it was both of their tradition.

Cassian struts across the dance floor, his hips swaying to the imaginary music in his head as he practices his rumba.

Nesta leans against the doorway and admires his form. His carriage is perfect, and his footwork is divine. The dance is slow and flirtatious, and Nesta can’t help but remember herself partnered up with him, spinning under his strong arms, braced against his muscular chest. The way he pulled her across the dancefloor was an intimacy she’s never shared with anyone else. Nesta watches him run through his samba and salsa next. He attacks both with precision and presence, and Nesta knows she’s in deep trouble. She can only hope she and Tarquin can place next to him.

Nesta’s about to give up on her run through and call it a night when Cassian’s voice breaks through the silence. “The floor’s all yours, sweetheart.”

He looks up at her, locking his hazel eyes with hers, making her heart stutter.

She strides forward into the light and onto the floor. “Thank you,” she says, attempting to sound as unaffected as possible. As she begins her first dance, she expects Cassian to leave, but instead he sits atop the judges table on the side of the floor to watch her.

Nesta’s blood boils under his watchful gaze. She uses him as a spot for her turns and performs to him – her audience of one. His eyes darken as she continues, and as Nesta does her highest kick, he even bites his lip. Nesta has missed those looks. She feels as if she’s about to combust under his intense scrutiny.

She’s so flustered that halfway through her dance she misses a turn. She never misses a turn. Nesta glares at Cassian, who still sits, staring at her.

“Did the perfect Nesta Archeron just mess up?” he asks, absolutely pleased with himself. Nesta growls and repeats the step. Her ankle buckles and trips over her other foot.

She glares at Cassian. “Can you fucking leave? You’ve been giving me bedroom eyes for the last half an hour, and it’s incredibly distracting.”

Cassian smirks and stands. “As if you weren’t giving them right back, sweetheart.” He approaches her slowly, quirking an eyebrow as he grins. “Wanna show me exactly what was on your mind?”

“No,” Nesta snaps.

“Liar.”

Cassian licks his lips, and Nesta’s gaze unwittingly lowers to it. She’s spellbound by his movements.

He finally reaches her and places his hands on her waist.

“Try it again.”

His hands guide her hips, and she’s able to do the spin easily. He spins her again, and she crashes into his chest. His arms wrap around her waist, holding her steady, and Nesta breathes heavily as she looks into his eyes, laden with desire. After a torturous minute, he finally leans down and captures her mouth in a heated kiss.

Nesta wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. He grabs at her thigh, hitching it over his waist, and Nesta moans into his mouth. She can feel him hard against her center through his loose dance pants, and she’s aching with need for him. Has been aching with need for him for months.

As she wraps her other leg around his waist, he hoists her up against him, his hands kneading into her ass. Her hands grab at his long hair and pull. It must sting, because he pulls away with a hiss and then bites down on her neck, absolutely leaving a mark.

Her back hits a cloth covered table as Cassian drops her across it, tugging her hips so she’s perched on the edge, right against him.

He laps at her collarbone, heated lips dragging across her skin and leaving a wet trail in their wake. She shivers and pulls him closer, rubbing his scruff against her smooth skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants into her neck.

“Never,” she whispers.

He doesn’t need more confirmation. He tugs up the skirt of her dress and lowers himself between her thighs. Her legs fall over his shoulders as he kneels to the ground. His tongue teases her through her underwear, slowly licking and nipping at her until she’s a squirming mess.

She lifts her hips up, trying to get closer, needing more friction, but Cassian is just out of reach. He knows exactly how to torture her. Always has. It seems he takes pleasure in it. Her hands move up her dress and grab at her breasts, pinching them, trying to relieve the building tension. Nesta likes to be grabbed and pinched and pulled. This gentle teasing is killing her.

Cassian pulls away, pausing momentarily, and Nesta props herself up to look at him. “Why’d you stop?” she pants, her hands still tugging at her chest.

“I want to see you,” he says, his eyes impossibly dark.

“Oh,” Nesta breathes.

“Take it off,” he commands. “Take it off and show me what you’re doing.”

Nesta nods rapidly. She loves when Cassian starts throwing down commands. She lies back down and lifts her hips first, moving the dress to her waist, and then shimmies the fabric over her head, tossing it to the ground unceremoniously. Her hands immediately return to their spot on her breasts, pinching and pulling them until they just barely hurt.

Cassian lowers his mouth to her stomach and bites at it while his hands pull her underwear down to her ankles. Constrained by the waistband, Nesta can barely spread her legs enough for Cassian to lower his hand to her folds and play with them.

“Yes,” she moans, so grateful to have his hand on her bare skin. Two fingers plunge into her without warning, and Nesta yelps. She grabs at Cassian’s hair, knotting her fingers in it and tugging as hard as she can. He lifts his eyes and grins at her while his fingers pump in and out.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” Nesta whimpers. “You know I do.”

She writhes beneath him as his fingers keep up a relentless pace inside her. He laces his free hand with hers, which is still pinching at her breast. He replaces her hand with his mouth. Wet heat surrounds her, and she screams when he sucks her nipple between his teeth. Her orgasm overtakes her as she pulses around his curling fingers.

As soon as she’s finished riding it out, Cassian grabs at her hips and flips her over. Her face slams onto the table.

“Shit,” Cassian fumbles with her and lifts her torso back up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, propping herself up on her elbows. He kisses her softly on her cheek, so starkly different from the manhandling she’s been receiving. She looks over her shoulder as he pulls down his pants and strokes his erection. She’s missed that thing most of all. Her hips lift in anticipation, her ass out as she’s splayed across the table.

He moves his cock between her folds, and Nesta lowers her arms, relaxing into the table. But he sheaths himself inside her with a forceful thrust, Cassian grabs her ponytail and pulls. Hard. She arches her back up and moans loudly as he wraps her hair around his hand, tugging at her hair with each push of his hips. She knows this is going to be fast. For both of them.

“Fuck, Nes,” he pants. “Gods, baby, I missed you so much.” His free hand claws at her hip, helping her ride him.

Her eyes flutter shut as she pushes back harder against his cock, thick and perfect, moving inside her.

“I missed you, too,” she admits over the sound of their slapping skin.

He tugs on her hair harder, lifting her chest off the table, and she can feel his lips press between her shoulder blades. His mouth hovers there, puffing breaths of hot air onto her sweaty skin, and his pace starts to increase.

His hand finally releases her hair but moves to her neck. She gasps at the feeling, a surge of arousal shooting through her, and he groans loudly. She reaches back and moves his hand from her hip to wrap around her front and rub between her legs.

“Almost,” she breathes. “Almost.”

He pounds into her from behind, and her hips crash against the side of the table as his fingers rub circles into her wet clit. His fingers slip, around and around, until she can’t fight it anymore. She screams out his name as she comes onto his cock, clenching down until her body is completely spent.

Cassian picks up his pace, moving faster and faster until he suddenly pulls out of her. She can hear his hand working his cock behind her, and she wants to move and help him, she really does, but she thinks if she tries to stand, her legs might give out. She hears Cassian grunt loudly as drops of wetness hit her back.

She hears him shuffling around, she assumes to clean her off, but instead she hears the click of a photo being taken. She snorts.

“Did you just photograph my naked ass with your cum on my back?”

“No…?” he says, and she glares at him over her shoulder.

“Cassian, delete that right now.”

“In a minute,” he says, and she sighs and lowers herself to the table again. He grabs the edge of the tablecloth and wipes her down, and finally helps her stand.

She reaches for her dress and pulls it over her head as Cassian pulls up his pants. They stand there staring at each other, breathing heavily, wondering what happens next.

“I really do miss you, Nes,” he says, and Nesta nods.

“You were the one who left,” Nesta snaps, annoyed that he can so easily revert to how they were.

Cassian’s eyes are sad when he admits, “I thought you’d come, too.”

“And leave my family for yours?”

“You are my family,” Cassian says. “Come back to me.”

Nesta’s heart pangs. She should have followed Cassian when he moved back to Illyria. And staring at him, she’s starting to be unable to remember any of the reasons why she didn’t.

“It’s late, and we have a competition in the morning,” she says instead. “Let’s sleep on it.”

He wraps his arm around her waist and smiles. “Together?”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t dispute it. She leads him back up to her room where they spend the rest of the night with their limbs tangled together. Nesta wakes with her heart on his chest and knows that after this weekend, she won’t be letting him out of her sight again.

[kayr0ss]

Pitter Patter

[Diakko Week 2020, Day 3: Rain, Thinking!Diana, Realizing Feelings] AO3

Happy to participate in Diakko week 2020! @dianakko-week

---

Cold, damp, and dreary.

That wasn’t exactly the weather she was hoping for on a trip to town, but alas said trip couldn’t be postponed, if only because it was for business rather than pleasure. Restocking their supply of ink, quills, and parchment was business indeed—one of utmost importance. Diana believed that the quality of good academic output was diminished if one didn’t take care of its presentation. Content was a given, of course, but a high-quality essay was of even better quality if one had the right stationery to work with.

Akko, however, just wanted a day out in the rain.

She forgot her umbrella. Of course she did. Diana resigned herself to the fact that they would be stuck underneath a single black umbrella, huddled together to stave away the bite of the wind. The pitter-patter of rain actually sounded pleasant against the taut water-proof fabric, and walkways of Blytonbury were slippery and riddled with puddles that she did her best to elegantly avoid.

“Stop trying to step in them, you’re going to get my boots wet as well.” She gently chided, pulling Akko in by the arm so that she wouldn’t get rained on. “And stay nearby.”

“But the rain is so lovely!” Akko grinned, reaching forward with her palm facing upwards so that she could feel the droplets of water against her skin. “It isn’t so troublesome when you stop caring about getting caught under it.”

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

“And you’re going to be there to care of me.” Akko shot her a smug wink.

“That’s not an excuse.” Diana grumbled, annoyed at how charmed she was by Akko’s little stunt.

Their surroundings felt like a painting come to life. They were in between late afternoon and evening, with the sky dipping darker into inky blue with each passing minute. The streetlamps were incandescent spots of light spaced out evenly through the darkness, reflected by wet cobbled streets. They were approaching a row of stone-walled stores where the book and supply shop could be found.

“Do you smell that?” Akko chirped excitedly, comically leaning forward while taking in a deep sniff whatever confection was cooking nearby. It was deep and savory, wafting forth from the row of stores. Chicken pot pie, perhaps?

Diana hid a small smile. Akko’s pace was picking up already—food had that effect on her. Akko hand slid downwards and fell to clasp her own.

Her stomach did a summersault, but she ignored it and allowed Akko to lead the way quietly. The buildings were coming up closer. They were oh so inviting. If the yellow lamps along their opened doorways weren’t enticing enough, the way their windows glowed with light and life from the inside sealed the deal for Diana. She would very much like to be inside any one of those stores now—warm, dry, and nursing a cup of chocolate while she listened to Akko’s laugh.

She rolled her eyes at herself. Akko’s laugh was a very specific thing to be wanting to listen to, but then again she did also think that those buildings felt very much like… Akko herself. Inviting, safe, warm and light.

She really needed to stop this lining of thinking. It was silly and fantastical. Her heart was beginning to hurt and that could never be a good thing.

“Thinking about something?” Akko stopped her paced, blinking up at Diana.

“Pardon?”

“Your face went all scrunched up and Overthinking-Diana-Like.” The brunette said with a smile, obvious in her attempt to goad a laugh out of her while at the same time conveying sincerity.

The world, Diana decided, did not deserve Akko.

But the blonde simply shook her head, and Akko gave her one last meaningful look and decided not to pry. She was more thoughtful than people gave her credit for, and it was yet another bullet on her list of ‘Reasons Why She Makes Me Feel Things.’

But these feelings were as distressing as they were pleasant. She didn’t know where they would fit in her life, which was already bursting at the seams with responsibilities and commitments. She couldn’t afford a distraction, even one as lovely as the habit of debating which shade of red Akko’s eyes were, and these days it’s been proving to be difficult to ignore.

And so she tore her gaze away from Akko and towards the shops. Ah. It was useless. The warmth they conveyed only reminded her of Akko again.

Shielding herself was one effective method though. She couldn’t simply let herself go and be consumed by unpredictable flights of emotion, now could she? Like the umbrella she held, she would hide behind her duties and rationalizations, passing off the flutters of her heart as childish impulses and brushing away her excitement at every chance she could get.

“You know what you need?” Akko said resolutely, tired of her moping and rumination. “Like, five minutes to let loose.”

“I need—what?”

“I feel like you think of a million things a minute and I know your brain is very big but it needs to rest Diana!”

Oh, by Jennifer she was pretty.

“Earth to Diana?” Akko waved a hand in front of her.

Right—she had to answer.

“I sleep.” Diana muttered, hand tensing around the handle. “Sometimes”

“Sometimes.” Akko sighed in exasperation. “And I bet even then you’re thinking.”

The brunette’s expression turned sly. Oh no. What did she have up her sleeve?

Slowly, without letting go of the hand she held, Akko stepped back and outside of the umbrella’s protective circle.

“Akko, you’re going to—”

Diana’s words died down as Akko closed her eyes, smiled, and tilted her face upwards to let the rain freely pelt down against her features, clothes, and hair. Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and there was a peacefulness to her posture that she almost envied.

“Sometimes you just... gotta let yourself be.” Akko’s smile grew even wider, then on a whim, she tugged on Diana’s hand.

The blonde lurched forward, struggling to keep herself dry while Akko just laughed.

“Come on!” Akko teased. “We’ll grab what you need real fast and head back to the castle not a minute later!”

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the sound of her laughter, but Diana slowly—surprisingly—pulled the umbrella to the side before closing it.

The rain was gentle. Her worries about her boots and clothes growing damp disappeared the moment she decided it no longer mattered, and that small dose of freedom exhilarated her. The droplets tickled against her skin and were caught along her lashes. It was beginning to seep through her uniform, but it didn’t matter and—

And it was okay.

She looked towards Akko. She was smiling at her softly.

“How’s it feel?”

A thumb brushed behind her own.

Diana paused for a moment to consider how to answer, but it seems this little exercise answered a more profound question in her mind.

She let her eyes linger on Akko’s for a moment, only moving them to glance at their joined hands before coming back up to smile at her again.

Akko was so wonderful. So carefree, and kind, and beautiful in every way that counted.

Diana was falling—and much like the rain, she was done hiding under the shade of her umbrella.

She wanted to feel it.

-

fin

-

A/N: Coincidentally, I was binging The Umbrella Academy today LOL. Hope you all enjoy this quick last-minute drabble, it was inspired by this wonderful and so very iconic and historical quote:

Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in NO ONE ELSE, NO ONE ELSE

[ambienthousewife]

got tagged by @tshot for this fun get to know me meme

nickname: ms. penis

zodiac: all i know is im a gemini im not sure of the other details

height: 5'9"

last movie i saw: the woman who ran, this cute little south korean movie that was playing at my work yesterday. i liked it

last thing i googled: the meek mill "how do u take pics of ya screen on da iphone" tweet

favorite musician: hmmmm huge toughie one but maybe frank ocean? normie answer but lol i like him a lot. also arthur russell, terre thaemlitz, and earl sweatshirt come to mind. if this is just counting musician as in one person and not as in musical collectives

other blogs: nah

blogs following: 40 i keep it very lowkey these days

amount of sleep: 6-7ish hours but i try to aim for 8 i just have a very anxious brain

what i am wearing: my nichijou "life sucks drop out" t shirt with pajama bottoms

dream job: idk something that could pay the bills and gives me enough free time and doesnt make me wanna die. maybe something in librarian/archival field?

dream trip: probably to cuba ive always wanted to go there. or to japan or to basque country or portugal. also to chicago because i was supposed to visit in a couple weeks but it fell through last minute

favorite food: another toughie. maybe pizza? maybe burritos? my favorite foodstuff is probably kimchi though. and garlic ofc

play an instrument: i play guitar and keys and also ableton if that counts as one

languages: english with tiny bits of other languages. ive attempted to learn spanish, mandarin, portuguese, and french all at various points of my life but i didnt get very far

favorite song: i feel like the answer to this is really obvious to me when i actually remember it but i keep forgetting what my favorite song ever is. the song ive been enjoying the most as of late is "falling out the sky" by armand hammer and the alchemist ft. earl sweatshirt

random fact: right now i am making some duck fat roasted potatoes for breakfast

describe yourself as aesthetic things: baloney sandwich, small pee pee, rock in my shoe

tagging whomstever one of my lovely mutuals wants to participate in this but i dont feel like tagging anyone directly lol

[aryn-writes]

And we are back to over sharing to deal with my mental health

TW: Caps, Eating Disorders, Self-Harm, Depression, Anxiety

Venting Post!

I am so tired. And before you ask, yes I sleep over six hours every night. When I can, I sleep over 12. So my sleeping is not the issue.

The issue is that I have no fucking clue how to exist anymore.

I was initially trying to remain as the person that I was. They were a happyish ray of sunshine that was so good at helping people. And they did! People came to them daily to vent, get advice, or just letting them know that they are doing better. And I wasn’t doing great mentally then, but I was making improvements!

It has been over a year since we went into lockdown.

And you know, there have been good things that came out of the isolation.

I know I am nonbinary! And I was getting closer to dressing how I want!

But I am exhausted.

While I am at a healthy weight now, I have been slipping in and out of my ED habits. My family has also been continuously shitting on me for gaining weight. (if you’re curious, I am 5’4” [~162 cm] at 135 lbs [~61 kg]. I used to be at 100 lbs [45 kg]. And I would continuously dip back in double digits.) So, I have a fear that I’m going tot get bad again and that is just not something that I can handle at the moment.

I also can’t socialize, because holy fuck that shit is terrifying.

Like there are times when I can’t even talk to my family.

My closest friends? One of them messages me daily to make sure I’ve eaten at least one thing (which I agree, very kind, but I will explain why I don’t like it in a bit.) The other I haven’t talked to in months and it is so awkward when we try to talk. All the other people I used to consider close haven’t talked to me in a year, even after I would attempt to reach out to them.

I know that it is partially my fault; I am horrible at messaging and keeping conversations going is one of my weaker points, even in person. Along with that, I have been having depressive episodes more often that I care to keep track of, and I push people away and isolate myself during those times. So I get that it might be difficult to talk to me.

But there are people who I will reach out to, and they read the message and just don’t respond.

Like... I will literally say “hey! It’s been a while, how have you been?” (No response)

A week goes by

“I’m just checking in to make sure you’re doing alright” (left on read)

Another week

“Me and this person wanted to plan a small hang out online! She found this really cool website that we can play games, and we can use discord to chat. Wanna join?” (No response)

And it goes on.

For over seven months.

So if you have an active imagination and are prone to overthinking, you can imagine that my thoughts are “well shit. They just don’t like me and were only friendly bc i was dating him.” (Him being my ex boyfriend; we broke up a month into the quarantine.)

And so that kinda fucked with my anxiety even more.

I don’t blame them for not talking to me. The logical part of me understands that sometimes you just don’t respond, or maybe you forget or just don’t want to. I get that. But the part of me that has been overwhelming is pretty much like, everyone hates you and you’re a burden.

And it’s really hard to open up to the people you are close to when you feel this way.

So we come back to the close friend who checks that I’ve eaten.

He is wonderful, do not get me wrong. We became acquaintances around September 2019, and friends a few months after. At this time, I was dating my ex, who was an acquaintance to the close friend. (We are going to call the close friend Edward from here on out.)

At that time, I was struggling with my body image and my eating disorder. (Every year I go through a relapse and recovery, it fucking sucks and sometimes the relapse take over almost the whole year, but not the point right now.) One of his first memories of me is me having a panic attack because I ate a sandwich.

So during this pandemic, Edward has been messaging me to make sure I’m eating, because he doesn’t want me to get really bad again. Which is nice!

Except he doesn’t really understand mental illness.

He has been trying! Do not get me wrong, he does try. But his way of going about talking to me during a depressive episode is “Just don’t let it get to you” And “Be happy” and my favorite, “I don’t get why it’s so bad.”

😃🤡

Along with that, he gets incredibly upset when I don’t respond to his messages within like thirty minutes.

Keep in mind, I have been going through many, many depressive episodes and am constantly struggling to get out of bed and keep up with my school work. I have told him this. I have told him that sometimes I just cannot handle checking my messages and participating in conversation.

And a side note, I am in my last year of high school. Which mean I have online learning and in a few months I will be graduating. Which means I have a few classes I need to pass in order to graduate. If you keep up with most high schoolers, we have been getting an absurd amount of work with due dates every fucking day. That plus depression does not go well, and so I am very tired all the time, but since we have actual lectures instead of recordings, I keep my camera on for every single class because the teacher’s get sad if we don’t. And yes, there are classes where it is just me and the teacher with our cameras on. And yes I constantly disassociate during class and stop focusing because I forget to.

So yeah, it is fucking hard to just keep up with that, and socializing isn’t really something my brain sees as important because of the constant negative energy I receive when I do try to talk to people. So I have told him that as of late, it is just difficult to do much besides school, and things that produce any sort of serotonin or dopamine.

And he got upset that talking to him wasn’t making me happy!

Which, it does! Because he is a great friend! But he is so rude about the things involving my mental illnesses! And acts like he understands it better because he is in a psychology class! So in this state, I do not feel as comfortable talking to him since he only wants the ‘happy’ version of me that struggles to eat so that he can ‘fix’ my eating disorder and be able to feel like he did something!

But I continue to try to talk to him, because he is an only child and I am one of his only actual friends. (I really wish I was kidding, but when we became close, he told me that I was the first person to ever actually care about how he’s feeling and how he is actually doing rather than just taking advantage of his presence. He almost cried when I said that I appreciated his existence.)

And I do care about him. Edward is definitely a close friend, and I appreciate that he tries. But lately, he only does it for the validation of knowing he did something good, and it feels like he is just tired of having me around since I can’t bring myself to speak much.

So I have been trying to push myself to be a good friend to him. And I am doing what I can to pretend that I am getting better so that he can be happier. Which is just tiring me out even more.

I feel empty most of the time now, and I am so easily put over the edge. I can hide it pretty well, but it has been getting to the point where I am contemplating self harm again just to feel something.

I don’t remember how to properly do things. I am really just trying to get through every day. But it feels like I am headed straight for doom and I am so tired of it and I just want to leave!

Which in a few months, technically I will. I hope to go out of state for college (to get as far as I possibly can from all of this shit) but as I apply to more scholarships, I want to scream and cry because I have no clue how I am going to pay for college because my parents make too much money and my mother spends it all on herself so I am stressed out. I didn’t do enough extracurriculars, and I have been rejected from so many scholarships that it’ s starting to look like I might need to stay here, and I can’t do that. I just can’t.

So I have been crying and trying to escape from this shit, and I feel like at some point I might just constantly think that nothing is real and none of this shit matters, because that is on my mind more and more.

But hey! I have been reading, writing, gaming, watching anime and drawing to cope so that shit exists (even though it’s all shit so I won’t post it) and I’m making improvements with that so that is something?

I don’t fucking know lol.

I am just tired, and this was a rant. I don’t fucking care. Hope you have a good day!

[sweet-steddie]

No Labels, All Love: Part 2 to ‘All Wrong’ (g.d. & e.d.)

Summary: This is a part 2 to the imagine All Wrong that I wrote some weeks ago. If you haven’t read it yet, check it out here!

A/N: Depending on the feedback for this one, I may add another part! It just depends on what people want to read, so please let me know :) I would also like to THANK YOU ALL tremendously for your continual support, even though it’s taken me centuries to update this time around. I hope that the wait was well worth it. Also, let me know what you thought of the racy parts and if I should possibly pursue that or never do it again lol. Enjoy!!!!

3.8k +

The TV in front of me could just as well be displaying a blank screen and blaring white noise; I wouldn’t notice. The past several hours have found me sitting nearly stock-still on my living room couch, glossy eyes fixated in the general direction of the flat screen mounted on the wall. I pick up my phone and rest my finger on the power button without applying any pressure before tossing it back onto the couch.

This is a routine I’ve been participating in for hours now: picking up my phone, then setting it back down and worrying my lower lip violently with my teeth. I pick it up for the millionth time and finally decide to power it on. My stomach drops as I watch the screen begin to come to life, the white apple staring me down tauntingly as I await what is sure to be an onslaught of text messages and missed calls. Hopefully.

I pretend like my heart isn’t beating out of my chest as my phone finally finishes powering up. I type in my passcode and wait with bated breath. For a moment, there’s nothing. No new alerts, no new text messages. But then, like an avalanche, the notifications come flooding in. I begrudgingly acknowledge the hopeful lurch that my stomach gives as I watch both Ethan’s and Grayson’s names flash intermittently across my screen for several long moments.

When the chaos comes to a definitive halt, I dare to thumb into my text messages only to find that I have a significant amount more than I did when I had powered off my phone in defiance hours ago. Thumbing into my messages, I see that my most recent texts come from both Ethan and Grayson, respectively. I heave a deep sigh in hopes of releasing some of the butterflies trapped in my stomach as I tap Grayson and I’s conversation first.

Every text bubble visible in the conversation is gray, indicating Grayson’s insistence. I scroll to the top of his slew of messages. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry; Ethan and I met these girls a few weeks ago at an event and they asked us to hang out. We had no intentions of hooking up with them. It just happened; I know that’s not an excuse. I promise this doesn’t change anything between us. I love you so much; Me and Ethan have been trying to call you for hours. Please answer. As I look over a few more texts, all along the lines of Grayson professing his love for me and begging me to call or text him back, I feel a pinch behind my eyes that’s quickly accompanied by tears blurring my vision.

“Fuck,” I curse quietly to myself, wiping roughly at my cheeks and willing the tears to stop flowing. I thumb, next, into Ethan and I’s conversation. It’s much of the same thing that I saw from Grayson. Through teary eyes, I skim over some of the texts that Ethan’s left for me. I hate myself right now. I hate hurting you; You’re still our number one girl. Always; Baby, please talk to us. Even if it’s to yell at us. I just wanna hear your voice; I miss you. Please. The phone drops to my lap as I bury my face in my hands, shoulders shaking with silent cries.

The knot in my belly tightens as I replay the events of today in my mind’s eye. I envision Grayson’s taught stomach, muscles rippling with the effort that it took for him to drive relentlessly in and out, in and out. I see, next, Ethan’s eyes closed, eyebrows and forehead furrowed in bliss, mouth slightly agape as he guided the mysterious brunette over his lap in a sultry rhythm. My jaw clenches reflexively and I find myself gritting my teeth as I try my hardest to ward off these invasive thoughts.

I’m so caught up in my own head that I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone begins to buzz violently in my iron grasp. An incoming call from Grayson.

I give a pathetic sniffle as I attempt to collect myself, fully weighing the pros and cons of answering this call. I know that, eventually, the boys will show up at my door if I don’t give them some indication that I’m okay. I think I’m too upset to see them in person right now. This is the logic that fuels me to accept the incoming call, putting the phone on speaker and placing it onto the empty couch cushion next to me without a word. The first thing I hear on the other line is a heavy sigh.

“She answered,” comes Grayson’s relieved voice, clearly addressing Ethan before jumping right into our own conversation, “baby? Hello, can you hear me?” he asks, bordering on frantic after not hearing from me for hours on end. I let some beats of silence pass as my heart thuds wildly in the confines of my chest. Even just hearing Grayson’s voice is making me an emotional wreck right now.

“Hi,” I finally chime in meekly, trying my hardest to keep my voice steady after having cried only minutes ago.

“Let us see you. Please, we need to see you,” he begs and I could swear that I hear his voice waver for a moment. “Please, just for a few minutes,” he bargains before I can even respond to his first plea. The raw emotion lacing his words is, admittedly, enough for a lump to begin forming in my throat. Regardless of the situation, I hate the idea that Grayson could be close to tears because of me.

“Alright,” I choke out before I even really know what I’m saying.

“Alright?” Grayson repeats like he can’t believe I’ve agreed to this. Part of me can’t believe it either. There’s commotion and then all of a sudden, I’m hearing Ethan’s voice instead.

“Thank you. We’ll be right there. You won’t regret it. God, thank you,” he babbles. “We’ll be there in 20 minutes or less,” he promises and I nod wordlessly for a moment.

“Okay,” I croak out before moving to end the call, but Ethan interjects.

“I fucking love you so much. I love you, okay? I always will,” he stresses and I busy myself with picking at a loose thread on my leggings to keep from crying again. This entire situation has me in an emotional bind. I want nothing more than to tell Ethan that I love him right back, more than I can put into words. But I can’t seem to make my mouth form the sentence. The silence lingers for longer than it ever has after one of us has said an ‘I love you.’ Ethan eventually concludes that he won’t be getting a reciprocation of his affections anytime soon and ends the call with a dejected “I’ll see you soon.”

With the call having ended, I’m left with nothing but the company of my racing thoughts. I have no idea how I’ve ended up in this situation, suddenly awaiting the company of the two boys who put me in this predicament to begin with. I give up on attempting to watch TV altogether, finally switching it off for the first time since I’ve gotten home. What follows is the shortest 20 minutes in history. I feel like I’ve barely gotten a chance to blink when I’m hearing a knock upon my front door.

My heart plummets to the depths of my stomach as I shuffle toward the source of the noise. It’s the moment of truth and that is abundantly clear in the way my palms sweat and the way my breath hitches. In a last ditch effort to appear collected, I run the back of my hand under each of my eyes to get rid of any stray tears. With an unsteady hand, I reach out to latch onto the door handle and pull open the door to reveal two of the most distraught looking twins I’ve ever seen.

It’s only been a few hours since the incident, but Grayson and Ethan look like they haven’t slept in days. Grayson’s hair is a disheveled mess, a stark contrast to the carefully crafted style that he had been wearing it in for the past couple of weeks. He’s donning an untucked, wrinkled white T-shirt and a pair of pinstriped trousers with some scuffed up slides. Ethan’s appearance is much the same, except that he’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants with dirty sneakers. It’s apparent to me that both boys threw something on so that they could get here as quickly as possible.

None of us say anything for a few long moments. Just as my eyes are scanning them, I see that they’re doing the same to me. We’ve never had to confront an issue this huge in our relationship before and it’s clear that none of us know quite how to go about it.

“Can we come in?” Grayson is the one who dares to break the silence first. His voice is gentle; tentative in a way, as if he doesn’t want to accidentally scare me off after he and Ethan have gotten this close. I nod my head and step aside so that the boys can cross the threshold, careful to keep my distance because I can already feel my resolve crumbling in the few seconds that they’ve been here. They make me so weak.

I try desperately to maintain a strong front as I watch them sink down onto the couch that I had previously rested on and I opt, instead, for the chair nextto the couch, afraid that my judgement may be clouded if I’m sandwiched between them. This attempt at distance doesn’t go unnoticed as Ethan’s eyes dart almost imperceptibly to the chair I’ve placed myself in before he casts his eyes down at his feet altogether.

“I need you to look at me when I say this,” Grayson begins suddenly, grabbing my attention immediately with the intensity behind his words. When I look over to him, I find that he’s already piercing me with an unwavering stare. I wait quietly for him to continue, giving him my full attention. “What you saw earlier meant nothing. It was a stupid hookup and E and I just needed to blow off some steam. We’ve been so busy editing and filming lately and we’ve had so much pent up energy. We figured that the best way to let out that energy would be to hook up with some random girls and that turned out to be such a mistake,” Grayson explains. I notice that Ethan nods his agreement at the appropriate moments throughout Grayson’s speech.

I appreciate the honesty, I really do. But that doesn’t stop my stomach from lurching every time the word “hookup” is mentioned. With the mention of the word, of course, comes the accompanying mental image of what I walked in on earlier today. I wait for Grayson to continue, but he seems to have said his part for now. He stares me down with sorrowful eyes, silently pleading with me to understand. I don’t know what to say just yet but luckily, Ethan picks up the slack.

“We’ll never talk to those girls again. We won’t talk to any other girls, if that’s what you want. How can we prove to you that we’re totally and completely yours? Tell us what to do and we’ll do it,” he bargains running a hand nervously through his hair as his eyes capture mine just like Grayson’s had. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek as I consider the enticing yet entirely unrealistic proposition. It’s not that I don’t want the boys to enjoy themselves. At 19 years old and living on their own in LA, the boys are truly in their prime. It would be cruel of me to keep them on any sort of leash and also completely out of my depth to do so. It dawns on me now that I’m not entirely sure how to broach this subject.

I could maybe settle on something like I’m kind of in love with you guys. Both of you guys. So it actually would be really nice if you never talked to any girls other than me and your mom and your sister ever again! But that would be totally unfair and I know that and a part of them knows that, too. So I decide to be decent about this whole thing. As decent as I can be, given the way that I truly feel.

“I couldn’t ask you guys to do that.” I finally force a full sentence out of my mouth since the boys have arrived here. My voice sounds oddly quiet and scratchy, throat raw from the hours I spent crying off-and-on earlier. Ethan looks as if he’s about to protest. He gets as far as opening his mouth before I continue. “That wouldn’t be fair and you know it. We’re our own people, all three of us. We love and care about each other. I love and care about you both so much,” I pause to bite my tongue, positively annoyed at the way that my eyes begin to fill up. Grayson immediately stands to his feet when he notices, ready to comfort me, but I hold out my hand, shaking my head.

“No, no.Thank you, but no. If you come over here and hold me, I’ll break down and I won’t get a chance to say what I want to say to you guys. So please, not yet,” I explain to Grayson and he looks like he’s having an intense internal battle with himself before he sinks back into his seat, nodding his head out of respect for my decision. I take a moment to compose myself and then I clear my throat before pushing through. “Because I love you guys the way I do, I could never ask you to give up your freedom because of me. You guys are young, single, successful, insanely handsome men. I want you both to thrive with whoever you meet. I would be robbing the world of two wonderful people if I asked you not to talk to girls just because of my own insecurities.”

It’s like, once I’ve started spilling my guts, I can’t seem to stop. “I just. When I walked in on you guys earlier, I felt like,” I search for the right words before settling on, “this small,” and I emphasize that by bringing my thumb and pointer finger together until they’re basically touching. Both boys furrow their eyebrows out of concern almost simultaneously, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of causing me distress, but let me continue without interrupting nonetheless. “When I’m with you guys, I feel like I’m on top of the world. You both make me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet, but I just feel like all of that went out the window when I saw you enjoying other women. And I know that’s ridiculous. I know it is,” I reason, growing frustrated with my own inner turmoil over the situation.

“You guys are the first people I want to share exciting news with and the first people I turn to when I’m having a shit day and the first people I come crawling to when I just need to be loved. And you’ve given me all of that, always. You don’t owe me anything beyond that. We’ve never discussed anything beyond friendship between us,” I trail off, trying to figure out the best way to word my thoughts.

“We’re more than friends to each other. We all know that,” Grayson defends gently and my eyes widen at him addressing the elephant that’s been in the room since the boys and I first met each other. And the thing is, he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t make it any easier for me to search for the right words to convey that. So I settle on opening and closing my mouth a few times before giving up and just simply nodding my agreement to his statement.

“I’m not saying we have to label anything, but I think we can agree that you wouldn’t like seeing me and E with other women and we wouldn’t be thrilled to see you with another guy,” Grayson continues when he figures out that he temporarily has the floor. I give that some serious thought. The last thing I want to do is stifle these beautiful boys and I express as much.

“That may be true, Gray. But I never want you guys to feel like you can’t go out and experience life and have fun just because I’d have an attitude about some bitches - lovely women - that you might decide to bring home,” I comically correct myself mid-sentence to lighten up the mood and it proves at least a little effective as I watch Ethan crack a smile, eyes all but twinkling as he stares in my direction. Grayson looks visibly more relieved when he responds, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a gentle smile.

“We could never feel like we’re missing out on life experiences and fun when we have you,” he pipes up softly and it’s like a switch has been flipped as I stand up and rush over to him on the couch. I pull him to my chest and he’s a little shocked at first, but he quickly adjusts, standing up to wrap his strong arms around me and pulling me as close as humanly possible. He pulls back momentarily to sweep some hair off my face and behind my ear, resting his forehead against mine and maintaining unwavering eye contact in our impossibly close proximity. “Fuck, I love you,” he breathes and my heart swells as a smile helplessly takes over my face.

I run my fingers through his messy hair, attempting to style it and he just watches me, droopy eyes shining in content. “I love you too, Gray.”

“Can I kiss you?” he mutters, lips brushing against mine every so often in the limited space between us. Instead of answering, I choose to surge forward just enough so that his plush lips are cushioned against mine. He wastes no time in introducing his tongue into the kiss and it becomes hot and heavy in a matter of moments. Before things can go too far, I begrudgingly pull away and kiss the tip of his button nose. He looks mildly frustrated when he opens his eyes and his grumpy expression makes my heart flutter at how utterly adorable he is in this moment.

“I know you have blue balls, but you’re gonna have to wait until later,” I tease, referring to how I had walked in on him getting his dick wet earlier. He purses his lips slightly, shaking his head with playful disdain.

“You are in for it later,” he threatens, raising his eyebrows at me before gradually loosening his hold. I bite my bottom lip at the promise of later as he backs away. “I’m gonna go take care of my situation, if you don’t mind,” he declares before heading in the direction of my bathroom. I smile teasingly at him until he closes the door and then I spin around to face Ethan. He’s still sitting on the couch and he’s chuckling lightly at Grayson’s misfortune. He stares up at me with a smirk still etched onto his lips.

“Are you gonna do that to me, too? Give me a little bit and then make me wait until later?” he asks, reaching out two hands to rub up and down on the outsides of my thighs. I burrow my fingers into his gorgeous head of hair, shrugging my shoulders playfully at the question.

“Probably,” I state bluntly and he rolls his eyes humorously before tugging me down, implying that he wants me to straddle his lap and I do just that. With both legs wrapped around his middle, I allow him to continue caressing my legs as we just stare at each other, mapping out each other’s faces. “Kiss me,” I breathe out and Ethan obeys right away. He takes his time with it, sealing his mouth over mine and gently probing his tongue in to explore my mouth and my own tongue. He’s meticulous with the way that his hands run all over my body and it sets my skin on fire. His hands eventually come to rest over the swell of my ass and he gives it an experimental squeeze, earning a soft moan out of me. When he hears the noise, he’s encouraged to do it again.

This kiss is going a lot further than I intended, but I have no plans to stop it any time soon, especially when I feel Ethan’s hands slide to my hips, gently guiding them in a rocking motion over his lap. Without even thinking, I follow his lead, grinding down onto his crotch and this time, we both moan out in satisfaction. The position we’re in reminds me painfully of what I saw earlier; how the woman rode him in Grayson’s bed. There’s something so hot about taking her place and being the one who ended up there instead.

“You like when your girls are on top?” I breathe against his lips and he groans before claiming my lips again. But he’s pulling back soon enough to growl out an affirmative “Fuck yeah.” Grayson’s thundering voice breaks us apart.

“Hey, how come I didn’t get some of that?” he protests and, even though my heart is thudding wildly out of the surprise of being interrupted, I can’t help but to bury my face in Ethan’s shoulder as I’m overtaken with soft, silent laughter. Ethan sighs out heavily, clearly having been caught off guard as well. I can’t see his face right now, but I can only imagine that he’s staring daggers in Grayson’s direction.

“Grayson, I swear to god,” he starts menacingly between gritted teeth and that’s when I let out a full laugh, pulling back to stare into Ethan’s irritated face.

“My sweet boy,” I murmur gently, tracing the chiseled planes of his face with my finger and watching as the irritation drains from his expression at a moment’s notice. “Later,” I promise, just as I told him I would and he groans again for a different reason this time. I smirk as I dismount from his lap and his arms begrudgingly return to his sides as I stand before him once again. I all but prance toward the kitchen, more than pleased with myself for leaving both of my boys absolutely salivating after me after all of today’s events.

“She’s gonna get it later,” Grayson says to Ethan, but he purposely says it loud enough for me to hear. Ethan chimes in readily.

“Oh, absolutely. Gonna tear that ass up,” he agrees and Grayson’s affirmative mmhm is enough to have me weak in the knees. Maybe I wasn’t totally wrong after all.